


New Territory

by Born In Captivity- Ineligible to Release (Jashasedai)



Series: Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers [10]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorcycling RPF, motocross - Fandom, motogp - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Tame Racing Drivers, Doubles of Every Character, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 31,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashasedai/pseuds/Born%20In%20Captivity-%20Ineligible%20to%20Release
Summary: In an AU where a secret species is used as Racing Drivers, a new species has emerged- Racing Riders.The first Racing Rider's matches are breaking new ground, and they're determined to leave old mistakes behind.





	1. Someplace To Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Tame Racing Driver AU, if you read the universe summary it will make more sense.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/518203

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To find out how Ricky Carmichael discovered Racing Riders read: Opening Other Doors  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7616554

**Someplace to Go**  
**Williams Driving Facility- 1994**

 

There was an access hallway that ran behind the dorms on the match level of the facility. In a book, this would have been a great place full of vents that would allow listening in on the conversations in the dorm rooms. It was really just a narrow hallway with the air vents and plumbing and electrical access. The janitor usually neglected to lock the door, though, so Valentino had gotten in the habit of sneaking in and tucking himself behind a conduit after a particularly bad session.

  
His sniffles were drown by the motor sounds around him.

 

_A kart on a kart track_

  
_Valentino's Racing Driver, Rasoio turned the wheel to the side, leading the kart with his whole body. It under-steered into the tire wall. Again._

  
He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

  
_Another day, another kart._

  
_Valentino tried to keep calm, he dashed down to the other side of the tire wall from where Rasoio had crashed, this time. [It is alright, back up and try again. You can do it.]_

  
_Rasoio looked up, his head was at about waist height where he was sitting in the kart. Vale could tell just from looking at him that he was furious. [I can do it, this stupid,] Vale hadn't been taught that gesture, but something about the way Rasoio gestured it made him think he meant bitch, or maybe slut, [Will not obey me!] He slammed his fist into the steering wheel. Vale gulped._

  
His lip quivered, and he thought how hard this must be for Rasoio.

  
_Another day, another kart._

  
_[The handlers say your times are not improving like they should. Please, Rasoio, this is important. We must focus today. You drive so well, we only need to knock off about a second,] Vale said with shaking hands. He didn't think about how stern the look on the handler's face had been. Didn't let Rasoio see the consequences they hinted at, if Rasoio's times didn't start keeping up with the other colts._

  
_[I am doing my best.] Rasoio's head was down. [There is not another second to find,] he started to whisper, [Please don't be disappointed when I can't. I'm sorry I shame you. You deserve a winner.] His shoulders slumped. [I do not have another second, Vale.]_

  
He leaned his forehead against the warm metal and his shoulders started shaking again.

  
And he hadn't.

  
Focused and calm, he had pulled .3 of a second off his average time.

  
_"It's time for you to look for other opportunities, Rossi."_

  
_"Maybe he should be a rally team." Vale bit his lip. "Some of the others say theirs do better once they have learned on dirt. Maybe he has to be used to it."_

  
_"We tried that. His times were even worse. If he was a rally Driver, it would be obvious. He wouldn't have to get used to it. He would just know. You've done your best, he just doesn't have it in him."_

  
_Rage flared in Valentino. He wasn't upset because he was worried he'd failed, he was upset because the stables had failed Rasoio. He had greatness in him. They just weren't letting him find it. "There is SOMETHING."_

  
_Alain patted him on the shoulder. "Sometimes it just doesn't work out. You're still very young, Rossi, you'll find something else. Maybe get back into school. You're a smart kid. This, though, is over for you. You need to move on, put this behind you. You can rest assured we'll take care of Rasoio. You just go look after the rest of your life. We'll have you finish out the season and then we'll announce your retirement." He patted him again and left the dorm room._

  
Vale covered his face with his hands. What now, what could he ever do now, without Rasoio? Rasoio was everything.

  
The door opened. He froze. No one had ever come in here while he was here. If they walked past his hiding spot, he would be perfect visible. It was only hidden from the door.

  
"Vale?" His heart sank. It was Jacques Villeneuve. "Are you in here? Alain sent me to find you."

  
He tried to stiffle a sob. It didn't work, Jacques's head poked around the edge of the conduit. He looked away from the other boy.

  
"I thought I'd find you in here. Here," he handed Vale a handkerchief.

  
He wiped his eyes, the whole point of hiding was so the other boys in the dorm DIDN'T know he was crying after another disasterous practice session.

  
"Come on, they want you and Rasoio at the outside track." He held his hand out. Vale took it, glad for the comfort. Jacques walked with him to Rasoio's stall and left him to it.

  
The walk from Rasoio's stall to the outside track was subdued. The two matched 15-year-olds held hands as they walked. Outside, Alain and Professor were standing with a man and boy Valentino didn't know. There was a Racing Driver wearing a green helmet and black and green bi-tone race suit and standing next to the boy.

  
[Come here,] Alain gestured. Valentino and Rasoio came and stood in front of the Trainers. "This is Mr Ando. He is a repressentative of Honda. This is Valentino Rossi, and this is his Racing Driver, Rasoio."

  
Valentino shook the man's hand.

  
"This is Ricky Carmichael."

  
"It's great to meet you," The boy had a very strong American accent. "It's a real pleasure, Valentino." He was grinning hugely. He shook hands like he was trying to win something. Vale matched him pressure for pressure.

  
"Valentino, please ask Rasoio to watch Ratchet," Alain said. He indicated the Green Racing Driver.

  
Ricky gestured to Ratchet, [Okay, brother, let's do it. Make me proud.] The Racing Driver crossed onto the track to a dirtbike Valentino hadn't noticed before.

  
When he got onto it, Rasoio squeezed his hand and revved his interest. He took a couple steps forward, taking Vale with him. When Vale didn't resist, he pulled him all the way to the tire wall that surrounded the kart track. He was staring at the bike and making a noise that Vale had never heard.

  
The Green started the bike and jutted his chin toward Rasoio. Then he took off and Rasoio shouted.

  
'WOAH!'

  
The word echoed in Valentino's head. He put his hand to his ear, as though ears had anything to do with what he was hearing. He looked at Rasoio in shock. It was Rasoio's voice. Not his mechanical voice, but his...self voice. Rasoio turned and looked at him.

  
'Look at that, Valentino!' he was gesturing it.

  
That had to be why Vale understood him so clearly. He knew better. He knew it was so much more than that.

  
Rasoio's helmet tilted a litte at the puzzled expression on Vale's face.

  
Vale knew he was smiling inside his helmet. For no reason other than that he KNEW what Rasoio was thinking. He took a deep breath, but Rasoio's attention was already back on the motorcycle. He was rubbing his thumb over the back of Vale's hand.

  
Motorcycles were cool, but he knew the overwhelming love he felt at this first sight of the greatest machine he'd ever seen, was all coming from Rasoio.

  
'Do you think he would let me try her?' his Racing Driver asked. Sent his thoughts right into Valentino's head.

  
'If it makes you feel love so much, he had better,' Vale thought. He knew Rasoio heard him.

  
The Racing Driver stopped and waved them over. They were already on their way.

  
'Ask his man if I can try,' Rasoio told Vale.

  
"This is amazing! Rasoio never reacts this way to the karts. Can he try riding your motorcycle?" Valentino asked Ricky. He looked at the man from Honda.

  
"That is what they are here for, Valentino," Alain told him. "To see if Rasoio is a motorcycle rider."

  
"You mean that might be why he does not like karts or rally? Because he is..."

  
"A Racing Rider," Ricky said.

  
"I did not know Racing Drivers even COULD ride motorcycles."

  
"Riders," Ricky corrected.

  
"We are exploring the possibility that some Racing Drivers," The man from Honda started. Ricky cleared his throat, "Are actually Racing Riders, better suited to motorcycles than cars. We're here to see if Williams has any that might fit the description. Yours is the most promising we've seen. He seems very interested in the bike. Go ahead and give him permission to try."

  
The instant Vale turned his eyes to Rasoio and released his hand, the Racing Driver was on the track, walking around the bike, examining it closely and revving. The Green was standing back with his arms crossed, nodding approval.

  
He got on.

  
'Ohh Vale. It's so good.'

  
There was a feeling of overflowing love. Was this was what Partout felt when he was in a kart? No wonder Jacques had such an easy time getting good times from him.

  
Rasoio looked at Vale. Waiting for the go signal. He was shaking, it was so hard for him to wait.

  
"Tell him he'll need to lean into the corners, don't turn the handlebars." Ricky said, from immediately behind Valentino. Vale jumped, he hadn't known the other boy had some so close to him. He passed the instructions to Rasoio.

  
Then he threw his fingers for Rasoio to go, and the course of their lives changed.

  
Rasoio could SEE the lines. This machine would, COULD follow the lines Rasoio had always believed were there, the BEST line through the corners. Vale could see what Rasoio was seeing. He could feel his body standing beside the track. He could feel Ricky's arm around him, keeping him from falling, but he could feel the bike between Rasoio's legs as if they were his own. His thighs were on fire from the feel, his hands on the handlebars tingled. He could feel EVERYTHING. Every imperfection in the track. Every stroke of the motor's engine.

  
"It's ok," Ricky whispered into his ear. "Don't get scared. Let him do what he needs to do. It's ok. I'm not going to let you fall. Relax."

  
He couldn't absorb all the information that was passing through his senses. Rasoio could hear everything, he could see everything, he felt everything, and could understand what all of it meant. He could hear the instant when the bike asked him to shift. His body was so sensitive to everything, that Valentino could barely stand it.

  
"It's ok. It's ok. You can do this. It's ok," Ricky murmured in a steady stream in Vale's ear

  
He felt himself whimper.

  
"Bring him in," Ricky told him.

  
Vale took a stuttering breath as he separated himself into his own body. He managed to gesture the bring it in sign for Rasoio. His knees were shaking. Ricky was literally the only thing keeping him standing. A quick glance at the men told him they were focused on the track. All they would see when they looked at Ricky and Vale was the boys leaning against each other. Ricky was keeping the strain of holding Vale off his face. He was shorter than Vale, but he was strong.

  
"Can you stand?" Ricky turned his face from the men to Valentino's ear as the men turned to them, away from where Rasoio was kneeling stroking the bike at the edge of the track, Ratchet kneeling beside him, showing him the engine.

  
Vale nodded and straightened. He swallowed convulsively.

  
"Looks like he's a Rider," Ricky called to the man from Honda. "I don't think there's any denying THAT."

  
The man nodded. He turned to Alain. "You've seen what I have to show you."

  
Alain smiled. "Let's continue our negotiations in my office." He gestured to the door of the building. "Boys," He turned to Vale and Ricky. "Valentino, please show Ricky and Ratchet to one of the guest stalls." The men walked away, leaving the two boys and their Racing Riders standing beside the track.

  
When the door closed, Vale dropped to the ground and sat with his back to the tire wall. "Oh mother, oh mother. I cannot believe this." He covered his face with his hands.

  
Rasoio sat in front of him and wrapped his arms around him. They clung to each other for a moment and felt. The rightness of the motorcycle, of what they had learned and felt today, and of their bond. For the first time they were one Racing Driver in two bodies. No. One Racing Rider.

  
When they pulled themselves together, they looked up at Ricky and Ratchet, sitting together, holding hands, watching them and smiling. "Is this real?" he asked Ricky. "They told me there was nowhere for him to go. Why not tell me about this?"

  
Ricky smiled. "Until today they didn't know. There has never been another Racing Rider, other than Ratchet. Rasoio is only the second one we've found."

  
Valentino looked at him. "What?"

  
"When Ratchet first saw a bike, he did what your Rasoio did, he loved it. He was an okay driver, but he never loved it like most of them do. I convinced Honda that he would make them more money as a rider. He's as much better at riding as the Drivers are at driving, none of the guys in motocross can keep up with him. He's winning everything. Once he proved himself, I convinced Honda there must be other Riders. That it would be profitable for them to find them. We've been to 4 stables. Rasoio is the only one of the colts who aren't making good times who has responded to the bike. He's NOT a Racing Driver, Valentino. He's a Racing Rider," he laughed, "And I think he's going to be GOOD."

  
Valentino nodded, stroking Rasoio's side and looking at the ground. Was this why he...had connected so strongly to Rasoio? So strongly he could hear his mind? Feel what he felt? If he told Ricky, would he tell the Trainers? What if they took Rasoio away? They would want to know, if the Racing Drivers were mind readers. They would want to exploit that.

  
"Don't worry about how much he shared while he was riding," Ricky said. "Ratchet does that, too, has me with him fully, instead of just sending. I know it's overwhelming." His face looked a little strained. "You'll learn to work with it. I can't say you'll ever get USED to it, but it won't always take everything you have to stand it."

  
"You hear him in your head? You feel what he feels?"

  
"Yeah, I think all matches do. They don't really talk about it. The companies...they have to know, but I think they're willing to pretend they don't, if we don't make an issue of it."

  
"Yeah," Vale murmured. This was too much to take in.

  
"This is great. I'm so glad Ratchet will finally have someone to talk to. None of the Drivers really understand him. You're gonna love working for Honda. I mean, it's ok. Until we get our own stable, then things will really be rad."

  
Vale looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Why work for Honda? I am contracted to Williams."

  
Ricky looked surprised. "Yui is in there buying your contract, buying Rasoio. To bring you guys back to Honda."

  
"He is just BUYING us? They have to have my permission, they cannot just tell me 'You go live in Japan.' What if I do not want to contract with Honda?"

  
Ricky bit his lip and looked sad. "You haven't been matched for very long, have you? Your contract says you go with Rasoio, wherever they send him. If you don't, they're going to fine your ass off, and then make you do it anyway."

  
"How can they do this? I will tell them no. Rasoio cannot race without me. They must drag me kicking and screaming, they will not." Vale flicked his fingers.

  
Ricky washed his hands one over the other. He was frowning deeply. After a moment's indecision, he scooted closer and hugged Valentino sympathetically. Ratchet hugged him, too. Vale stared at him. The handlers always said you should never touch someone else's Racing Driver, they hated being touched by other humans. Rasoio put his head on Vale's shoulder.

  
"I hope you don't say no, Valentino. You know what happens to Racing Drivers who can't race?"

  
"They get put down, but he WILL still be able to race, they just do not race him without me." He sat in the middle of the huddle of comfort. "They will not put him down because I am not at the track."

  
"Probably not the first time," Ricky shrugged. "Maybe."

  
"Oh mother. So...there is nothing I can do, I just have to do what they say? I have to move to Japan?"

  
"Depends on where your team is. Right now there's just the two of us. They're going to send us where they want, but we're going to keep looking for more Riders. They don't do well in the stables, they get too sad when they have to kart all the time, so we'll get them all, and start our own stable. I mean...you don't have to use your winnings for that if you don't want to, but Ratchet and I are paying off our debt AND putting money towards buying out the contracts of any Riders we find. We got a finders fee for you today, and that will go towards buying out your contract."

  
That was a shock. "You will buy our contract? We will be free?"

  
Ricky frowned again. "I don't think the FIA is going to let any of them be free. We don't have to do stables like THIS, though. With lead sticks and miserable mares and everyone getting abused and neglected. We can do better. And your contract will be for the Riders' stable, and you'll have a say in what you do. Your team and stuff."

  
This really was all too much to take in. He was sure about one thing.

  
"Yeah. Of course I want to help. No one should have to go through what I went through with Rasoio. None of them should have to go through what he's gone through."

  
"Yes. It is a deal."

  
Valentino Rossi and Ricky Carmichael shook hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Valentino and Rasoio be happier at Honda?
> 
> How will they get along with Ricky and Ratchet?


	2. Trainers

**Trainers**  
**Honda Motorsports Development Facility- 1995, 1998**

 

  
"I have a question," Kevin said. The three of them were sitting around a plastic patio table on folding chairs, eating the lunch Ricky had brought from home, because none of them could afford the guest charges at the stable's mess, and going into town for takeout was so far out of the question that it was in a question on a different test in a different classroom, in a different school. Vale and Ricky looked up from their salads. "When we start this stable. Are we going to hire handlers? What about Trainers? I don't know if you've noticed, but our guys are pretty different than the Drivers."

  
The other two exchanged glances. They put their forks down.

  
"We can buy out a Trainer's contract, I guess. I mean, he'd have to like, learn about Riders," Ricky said. "And handlers are a dime a dozen, we'll just fire anyone who's a dick to them. They don't need to be rough."

  
"Who's going to teach them about Riders? If they have a Driver?" Kevin asked. Ricky had found him at the McLaren Stable, nearly at the end of winter break. He wasn't going to be starting on his team until the middle of the next season.

  
"We will," Vale said. "We are the ones who know them." He picked his fork back up, poked at his grilled chicken.

  
"Wouldn't it just make more sense if we learned what Trainers do?"

  
Vale looked up.

  
Ricky rested his chin on his fist. "Well, that's a really good idea."

  
"You will have to ask, Ricky. Honda does not really like either of us so much."

  
"Honda loves me, thank you," Kevin said, reaching across the table and pushing Vale playfully.

  
"Okay. I mean, we'll have to adapt everything, but we'll be starting on a better foot than any Driver Trainer."

  
Kevin laughed. "No doubt. Drivers don't even touch. Can you imagine them trying to work with a Trainer that won't touch them?"

  
It turned out that Kevin's Kdub was not temperamentally suitable to be a Trainer, very few Greys were, but Rasoio and Ratchet both passed the intake exam with flying colors.

  
Being a match for a Racer, of any type was a full time job. Adding full time schooling to that hectic schedule was exhausting. On top of that Ricky spent breaks going stable to stable searching for more Riders. After he came back from a stable trip and slept for 36 hours straight, and then came down with a horrendous flu, Kevin took Kdub started going on the stable trips. They were good at that, and had the advantage on Ricky that Kevin was tall, and had less of a struggle holding the matches on their feet when their Riders took a bike out the first time. It was ridiculous, he pointed out, having the matches so miserably overwhelmed and trying to deal with the Rider's enthusiasm at the same time.

  
Once he pointed it out, it was obvious that they should be testing the potential Riders without their matches present. That was when they realized that instead of testing just matched Drivers who weren't making good times, they should be testing ALL the matched Drivers. And once the matches were taken out of the equation, it was natural to test the unmatched Drivers at the same time.

  
Honda was gathering quite the stable of Riders. By the time Vale and Ricky were done with their Training Apprenticeships in 1998, they'd collected Nicky, Ivan and Chad, as well as 30 unmatched stallions and colts age 18 and under, whom they would be responsible for matching, with appropriate Honda supervision. And 41 mares and fillies. Their wing of the Honda stable was full of kids.

  
They were making use of the Honda handlers for now, and also working on luring away some of the particularly soft-handed handlers from other stables. Once they could afford to pay them. Honda kept extending their line of credit, because for now, none of them had enough wins to fill a hat, let alone pay off all these Riders, or the facilities they were using at the Honda stable.

  
-1998

 

Valentino was just back from a preseason test. He sat at the same plastic table where they'd made the decision to become Trainers, 3 years before. His folding chair had a slat missing, but he couldn't bring himself to buy a new one. The table was covered in paperwork. They couldn't afford the rental charges on the office spaces at the stable. Usually it was built as a flat fee into the matches' contracts, but the Riders' matches all had stripped out contracts that included the absolute minimum fees, and thus the absolute minimum of conveniences, and in some cases, necessities. All of them made a point to ask for extra napkins, plasticware and condiments from every restaurant they went to with any team event, as well as taking pens and notepads and any complimentary anything at hotels. Ivan's parents had refused to take him out to dinner ever again if he stuffed his cargo pockets full of rolls even one more time. Vale had a girl he'd really liked break up with him because she caught him emptying all the napkin dispensers at the fast food restaurant where they'd gone on a date.

  
With a noise like a lawn mower race, a handful of colts came running through. They all gestured hello to him as they charged past. He turned to watch them. The tallest of them, whose name was Due Caution, was wearing a towel tied around his neck like a cape.

  
He laughed. The colt was jumping and making sort of fighter plane noises. That one was going to be fun to race. Not that Rasoio would still be in the sport by then. That was YEARS away.

  
"You boys are going to love me!" Chad's voice rang down the hallway. He looked into the room and saw Vale alone in the break room. Skip peered around the door frame behind him.

  
"Ricky and Ivan are on the track. Nicky is at the mess. Kevin is on workout. I am doing paperwork." He spotted the box Chad was carrying. It was the size of a banking box. It was wrapped in brown paper and had clearly been posted a long way. He looked at it suspiciously. "What did you bring?"

  
Chad's smile was enourmous. "When will they be back?"

  
"At four, as always." That was only 20 minutes away. Chad would not agree to open the box until all the guys were back.

  
Valentino went back to paperwork. Chad and Skip sat on the counter gesturing silently back and forth. It was nice, Vale reflected, that his two collegues could have a conversation in the room where he was keeping the accounts, and be no disturbance at all, except the occasional burst of laughter. The accounts were not nice. There was an awful lot of numbers in the red column, toiletry thefts not withstanding. Too bad they could not steal enough napkins and hotel shampoos to break even. He fantasized for awhile about funding their stable entirely on selling instant coffee and ketchup packets on the black market, and the napkins would cover luxury items, like jam to go in the peanut butter sandwiches Kevin brought. Instead of pickles.

  
"There is a reason matches do not buy themselves out from under their debt. We will need sponsors that are not sponsoring Honda, but us individually." He put his head in his hands. Chad and Skip were watching him.

  
"Cookies. From my aunt."

  
Vale looked up. "Sorry?"

  
"That's what's in the box. My aunt sent cookies."

  
Vale looked at the box. It looked like it had been handled VERY indelicately in transit. Chad's aunt had sent a box of cookies, but what they had received would be a box of crumbs. He laughed desperately.

  
"What?!"

  
"That was very nice of her." Vale smiled. It must have been a LOT of cookies when it had started out, to fill a box that size.

  
"Why are you laughing?" Chad crossed his arms. Skip did as well.

  
"They have clearly been crushed." Vale pointed, he started laughing harder.

  
"Well, no." Chad looked at the box, a little alarmed.

  
Then he hopped of the counter and pulled out his pocket knife, carving into the packaging. There was a bank box inside the wrapping, very much the worse for wear. Chad was looking a little pale now. He cut through the tape holding the lid on.

  
"Geeze, Vale, you scared me." He lifted out a cookie tin and pulled the lid open. "They're fine, look, she put them all in these little tins. They're just fine."

  
They were fine. There were 11 cookie tins, all packed with delicious looking cookies.

  
"What is THIS?!" Kevin came in, hair wet after the shower (one of the few conveniences they HAD been willing to pay for was the workout room and the showers.) Kdub made a noise that sounded like he was being strangled. "Cookies! Look at all the cookies!"

  
"I told my aunt I was dying for some of her home made chocolate cookies, and told her how me and my mates were living on crap peanut butter sammies. So she sent me a whole box!" Chad was staring with big eyes down at the treasure trove of cookies.

  
"They're not crap!" Kevin pushed at him.

  
"Yes they are! They have pickles on them! No one likes peanut butter and pickles!" Chad pushed him back, grinning.

  
Kevin grabbed him and noogied him. "Say uncle! Then say my sandwiches are the best thing you've ever eaten!"

  
"No!" Chad struggled. "Skip! Help!"

  
Skip hopped off the counter and was intercepted by Kdub. The two squared off.

  
"Ahi!" Vale yelled as the wrestling men crashed into his table. "The papers!" Just then he felt Rasoio wake up. His sleep schedule had been really off, for some reason Vale couldn't understand, and he was waking up in unpredictable moods. 'Hey, brother, come to the break room, there are cookies,' he sent, rescuing his coffee cup from spilling all over his hard work. He set the cup on the counter and scooped up the paperwork, putting it in the cupboard he was using as a filing cabinet.

  
Ricky, Ratchet, Ivan and Hot Rod came in. The two Riders immediately teamed up with Kdub against Skip. Ricky and Ivan sort of waded through the wrestling mess and inspected the box of cookies. "This is great. Are these your aunt's famous chocolate cookies, Aussie?"

  
"Yes!" Chad squirmed out of Kevin's grip and twisted his arm up behind his back, "Now, admit that your sandwiches are gross, and you're trying to make us all weak with hunger so you can beat us on the track!"

  
"I won't! They're the greatest sandwiches! You just can't appreciate the greatness of American cuisine."

  
"Don't blame America for your weird tastes," Ivan said. "No one else thought they were good, either."

  
"Jam is good on peanut butter," Valentino said.

  
'Vale?' Rasoio sounded sad. He stopped listening to the sandwich argument and turned his attention to his partner.

  
'What's wrong, brother?'

  
'Hungry.'

  
'Well come up, there are cookies, and we'll go to the mess and get you something to eat. It's almost dinner time, you've been sleeping all day.'

  
Why did Rasoio seem so weepy? This was more than moodiness.

  
Rasoio just sent a feeling of discontent.

  
Vale stood up. This wasn't right.

  
"Save us some of the cookies, yeah?"

  
He headed out of the break room and down to Rasoio's stall.

  
He was in the elevator when he felt a wrench of discomfort, and then embarrassment. 'Vale?' Rasoio's sending was wavering. 'I made a mess.'

  
'What...sort of mess?'

  
'An icky mess.'

  
The icky mess became apparent the moment he opened the stall door. Rasoio was sitting on the floor in the combination bathroom/shower.

  
There was a puddle of vomit halfway between the sleeping cupboard and the bathroom door.

  
Rasoio was in soft pants and mismatched socks. Several pairs of mismatched socks, and three jerseys. He looked up at him, red with shame. 'I didn't make it to the bathroom.'

  
Upon closer inspection, Vale realized he wasn't red just from shame. Vale hadn't seen this since he'd learned not to drink himself off his feet. Rasoio had thrown up so hard he'd blown out the tiny blood vessels in his face. He kept the wave of horror to himself. 'I'm sorry you didn't make it. I will clean it up, please don't worry. Will you call Yema?'

  
Rasoio growled at him, 'We don't need Yema. We're Trainers. We can handle this. We just need to make a plan.'

  
'A plan is not the answer this time. I don't know what is wrong with you. This is more than first aid. We need someone who knows what to do.' Vale hated doing this, but he got into Rasoio's face. 'Call Yema. Now.'

  
Rasoio glared at him, but then he started coughing, and had to look away. The cough was a lot worse than it had been the day before. It wasn't a little rasp, anymore, it sounded wet. Rasoio spit in the toilet. There was a plop like a marble hitting the surface.

  
Vale looked in the water. There was a lot of mucus at the bottom of the water. 'You threw up because you were coughing?'

  
'Yes.'

  
'This is all from since you've been awake? It has only been about 10 minutes.'

  
Rasoio nodded. His face was going red. He suppressed another cough.

  
'No, brother, no, you need to let it out. That stuff is bad for you, your body wants to get rid of it.' He stroked Rasoio' back.

  
His partner glared some more, and then let himself cough. He got onto his knees and leaned over the toilet bowl like he was going to vomit again, but just coughed. He spat again and again.

  
The door opened. Vale felt a flare of annoyance, all his own, at the discourtesy. Yema and Yui came into the room. He shifted to the side to give them access to Rasoio, while still holding his partner's hand. They looked him over, made grimaces of disgust at the toilet, and checked his temperature. Yui explained what he was checking, to Vale. "He has pneumonia."

  
Vale's heart went cold. "Is he going to be alright?" He felt like he was going to cry. When he had been on his Apprenticeship, one of the Racing Drivers had died of chills. He had been unmatched, but it was horrible. He couldn't make it if Rasoio died. He wanted to protect the Rider from his fear, but it was leaking through and now Rasoio was coughing AND worried.

  
"Yes, he'll be fine. It's one of the things they get over pretty easily." He fixed Valentino with a look. "We need to start your medical courses right away."

  
"We do?"

  
"Ricky has zero apptitude for medicine. His Rider is not much better. When you guys have your own stable, you will not be able to call in another Trainer like this. For awhile, at least, you two are going to be the only Racing Rider Trainers. Which means YOU have to learn the medicine."

  
"I will have to be the doctor?" He'd just turned 19, and there were almost 80 Riders, already.

  
"Yeah, Valentino, you're going to have to be the doctor."

  
They took Rasoio over to the Honda medical center and set him up in a bed with a course of antibiotics. He would be out of bed in the morning, demanding to go karting, Yui predicted. Rasoio almost immediately fell asleep again, once the IV fluid drip was in.

  
He went back up to the break room. There was two chocolate cookies sitting on a plate. A piece of cardboard had been ripped off the brown paper wrapping and this was tucked under the plate with his and Rasoio's names on it.

  
Valentino and Rasoio,

  
It didn't seem fair to enjoy all these cookies by ourselves so we decided to share!

  
The box was gone, as were all the other guys. 11 tins packed full of cookies and they'd left them ONE EACH. Where did they go? To sleep off their sugar comas, no doubt? He picked up the plate. The rest of the note became visible.

  
Valentino and Rasoio,

  
It didn't seem fair to enjoy all these cookies by ourselves so we decided to share!

  
Come on down to the Rider's wing when you get back.

  
-Ricky, Kevin, Ivan, Nicky and Chad,  
Honda Cookie Delivery Boys

  
He put the note in his pocket and went down to the Rider's wing.

  
The open space that for most stables, comprised the "mares' only" space was the common area for their whole stable.

  
Not counting their partners, there were 71 Riders, males and females, between 18 and 10. They were spread around the common space. Which was like a large gymnasium. They all had chocolate around their mouths. The guys were among them, gesturing and telling jokes, and listening to their stories. Each guy had three or four of the younger Riders cuddled against them.

  
[Valentino is here!] Ricky gestured. [Vale, grab the box, we'll hand out the other half of the cookies! We were waiting for you.] The guys came over to where the cookie box was sitting on the floor near the door.

  
[Where's Rasoio? Still sleeping?] Valentino could never tell Nicky apart from Kentucky, unless one of them started making noise. They looked EXACTLY alike, and Nicky was extremely careful to keep their hair the same. He even changed into similar clothes when he arrived at the stable. Then he abandoned speech, unless there was someone around who didn't understand gestures, he signed everything. Sometimes if the person who didn't understand gestures knew that gestures were a thing, he would then rely on one of the others to translate. Or some of the time Kentucky was around, instead.

  
[He is sick. I took him to the medical center. Yui says I will start learning medicine right away. It is a lot all at once.]

  
He nodded. [That is hard. Are you worried? That it will be a struggle?]

  
[Yes. People usually take lessons,] There was no gesture for school, and certainly none for univesity, [for years before they start learning medicine. I have not done any of that. I am just learning the difficult things first.]

  
[You are smart. You will be fine. Rasoio will help you. His instincts are good. That will make a difference in how easy it is.]

  
Ricky handed Vale a full tin of cookies. [Knew you'd want to hand some out. Everyone got one already. QUEUE FOR COOKIES!] he gestured hugely to the young riders. They handed out a second cookie to everyone. "FIA found a match for one of the Riders." He scanned through the crowd. "Colt over there in the white. Yui will walk us through the process, but this is our first lesson as Licensed Rider Trainers."

  
"A lot of pressure to do well. What if Riders match differently? Learning by trying is dangerous in matching," Vale said, keeping his eyes down. "We can't lose anyone else."

  
Ricky nodded. "Yeah. Lot of pressure."

  
Another mouth to feed.

  
Hopefully this new kid had fast hands. Or parents who were farmers. Or grocers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now there are more guys showing up. We're seeing some familiar names. Will Vale and Ricky be able to keep their stable from turning into a stable just like one of the Drivers' stables?


	3. Racing Through The Pain

**Racing Through the Pain**  
**Circuito de Jerez- 1999**

  
'It hurts!' Rasoio screamed at Valentino. He was so mad he'd pushed Vale out of his head. Now he was standing in the garage with the crew looking oddly at him because they could tell when he was there and when he was not, and he was watching Rasoio on the monitor.

'You want to stop in the middle of the race?! You're riding just fine. He'll pass you.' He sent Rasoio a picture of the HUMAN riding in second place passing him.

'It HURTS. You can't make me do this.'

Vale could, they both knew it. He didn't want to, though. 'You'll lose.'

Rasoio considered this for a lot longer than Vale thought he should have.

'There is only a bit of the race left, you can make it.'

'The shaking is making it worse.'

'Let me back in and I'll help you carry it.'

'I have to focus.' He pushed Vale away. He was lapping better now than he had when they'd been arguing. Vale crossed his arms and watched the monitors.

[He okay?] his engineer asked.

Vale shrugged.

They won the race. Their first race of the season. Rasoio had started pouring the pain off on Vale the last 3 laps. Vale was shaking in sympathy pain.

[Checkered flag!] Rasoio yelled. He looked at the garage, giving serious consideration to pulling in immediately. [Is it finished?]

[Yes! Right there, right there, pull over! It will be fine!] Vale yelled back. Never mind about the fine they would charge for stopping.

Rasoio pulled off the track, leapt off the bike, over the barrier and through the door. He reached the portable bathroom and Vale ignored the team's laughter, while he shared Rasoio's relief at finally being able to pee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things can just be funny.


	4. Gather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The photo mentioned at the end can be seen at the bottom right of the Rider's cast collage.
> 
> http://jashasedai.tumblr.com/post/155784889838/reference-pic-for-all-tame-au-stories-featuring

**Gather**  
**Scuderia Ferrari Racing Improvement and Education Grounds -2001**

  
_"We're going to gather them up and bring them home." -Ricky Carmichael_

 

  
It was a little imposing, walking into the Ferrari stable as a representative of Honda Motorcycles. The lobby of the stable was a large, airy space and there was a young man in a suit that Valentino would have guessed was VERY expensive, because it made him look like a magazine model instead of a receptionist when looked up and smiled coldly.

  
"My name is Valentino Rossi. I have an appointment with Mr. Bruneau," Vale told him.

  
The receptionist looked at Vale's hands where he had them rested on the desk, as if they were dirty and smuging the polished surface. Vale left them where they were. This building may have been imposing, but he was not going to let them cow him.

  
"Please feel free to enjoy the lobby while you wait." The man lifted his eyebrows marginally. there were no chairs or anything in the lobby, no espresso station, not even a potted plant, just polished floors and glass and steel. He didn't want to endure the company of the receptionist, though, so he would go stand and look out the window at the painstakingly landscaped grounds. After one more thing.

  
"I have two packages I am supposed to meet here. Have they arrived?"

  
The receptionist's eyes narrowed. He typed into his computer for a moment. With rapid little taps like a bird dancing.

  
"Yes, they are in holding."

  
He walked away from the desk. He folded his hands behind him and stood looking at the view. He had no reason to be afraid of this place and these people. He was every bit as legitimate as they were. He hoped the whole stable wasn't as cold and impersonal as the lobby. It was not a comfortable thought, imagining sweet, innocent children growing up in a place like this.

  
They kept him waiting for 20 minutes after his appointment time, which he had arrived early for. If the lack of chairs didn't offput unwanted guests, the power play might, and he knew without a doubt there would be further deterents if these were not enough.

  
A door opened behind him, beside the receptionist's desk and two sets of footsteps moved into the room. He turned and looked the men up and down. A small, slim frenchman, and a slightly taller, older man in a red hat.

  
"Mr Rossi," The smaller man said. "I am Pierre Bruneau, this is Niki Lauda." Neither offered to shake hands, and Vale didn't either. Trainers.

  
"Welcome to the Scuderia Ferrari. This way." He led the way further into the building.

  
Vale's lips tightened. He had never heard a stable official so openly admit what a stable was. They were usually meticulous to use the full official name, though the Trainers and matches usually refered to it as 'the compound or the facility' they never openly called it what it was. Then again, this was Ferrari, they put it right there in the team name. Scuderia Ferrari- Stable Ferrari.

  
"Your stallion is in holding on the Racing level. Would you like to get him first?"

  
They were trying to disconcert him with their brazen acknowledgement of what was going on here. Well Valentino was Italian and Pierre was an amature at being brazen as far as Vale was concerned.

  
He also knew better than to appear dependent on his partner. He was perfectly capable of making this pitch on his own. "I would like to get him before we do the walkthrough. He won't be necessary for this part." Vale was aching to feel Rasoio's touch but he was going to wait until the appropriate time.

  
They sat in Pierre's office and Valentino laid out the proposal Honda Motorcycles had approved as his opening offer. He was authorized to offer up to 30% more than the opening offer if he could find any stock in Ferrari's stable that were Riders instead of Drivers. He'd have to test them out first, though. Racing Driver stables weren't equiped to tell if their colts were Racing Riders or just couldn't make sufficient lap times. They had no use for Riders, no facilities, and no personnel that were specialized to the discipline.

  
This is what Vale had spent years learning to do. He was pioneering a brand new field.

  
He had learned from the best Racing Driver Trainers that Honda had to offer. Riders were different from Drivers and he had to learn by trial and error, make his own mastery.

  
Ferrari wanted the best price for resources they couldn't use, but it was in their interests to get rid of mouths they had to feed, that would never bring them profits. So they wouldn't negotiate so hard as to make Vale walk away.

  
They settled on a number fairly quickly. The older stables hadn't realized the potential of the new breed yet. The negotiations in future would get increasingly difficult until the big stables had formed their own Rider divisions. Until then Vale had to gather up as many of the Riders as he could get. Bring them home to motorcycling.

  
In the holding room a padded, heavily ventilated plastic crate was waiting for him. He unlatched the clasps and let himself smile down at his own face. The pale eyelashes fluttered and with a warm breath in his mind, Rasoio woke up.

  
[Ready to find some brothers?] He gestured as his Rider pulled himself upright and shook his neon yellow jumpsuit out.

  
Rasoio frowned at a spot where his jumpsuit had bunched up under his leg during transit, and left a series of impressions in his skin. [This is no good. I have lines.]

  
Vale checked to make sure he hadn't actually sustained damage. [They'll fade in a few minutes,] he reassured his friend.

  
[Is she here? Did you check on her? Is she alright?]

  
[Yes, Spider is here. I didn't go look at her without you, I know you want to make sure she's alright.]

  
The other package was in a different holding area, nearer the door to the outdoor kart track. Vale pried open the crate and Rasoio practically crawled in to wheel Spider out. She was a Honda 125cc dirtbike. Her name meant, as Rasoio put it, shining creature that lures and consumes. She was shining in red and chrome. Rasoio wheeled her over next to the door where the foals would be brought in. It was going to be fillies first.

  
Vale always had them bring the fillies first. The stable trainers tended to dismiss the fillies as potential profit makers and tended to dismiss riding as something that would interest all Racing Drivers. So he liked to sneak the tests in for the fillies; that way when most of the colts proved unsuitable as Riders it would become immediately, retroactively apparent that the fillies should be going with him as well.

  
The handlers brought the fillies aged 10-16 in. The crowd of them walked calmly ahead of their handler, ignoring Rasoio and Vale just like they ignored Pierre and Niki. There were something under 100 of them. Maybe 80? Of those who filed by 3 glanced at Spider and stopped dead in their tracks. 1 glanced and kept moving but kept glancing back. The bike didn't even register for the others.

  
Vale pointed to the 4 fillies he wanted separated for the test. They were brought to the side of the track while the rest of the fillies began their daily excercise on the indoor track. Vale had the other 4 brought outside. It wasn't difficult to get them to walk away from the karts like it would have been for any of the others. Rasoio was wheeling Spider ahead of them and they followed like they were tethered.

  
Rasoio got on the bike and rode it around the outdoor kart track. He was watched by 3 helmets with intense focus, and one - the Red who'd only dared glances at the bike as she was walked past - only dared glance at it now. Vale nodded. The others - a white, a black and a green - strained against their handler's orders when Rasoio brought the bike to a halt.

  
"Take the red to the bike and release her, please," Vale told the handlers.

  
Pierre stepped forward. "She doesn't know how to ride. She's never even seen a motorcycle before."

  
Valentino stood, arms crossed and didn't look at the man. "Has a Racing Driver ever needed to be taught to drive?"

  
"Well, no, they know instinctively."

  
"This is how Riders are as well."

  
The handler allowed her freedom of movement. She tilted her helmet at the man for a moment. Rasoio revved at her. She looked down at the bike and then back up at Rasoio and nodded. She was on the bike, had it started and down the track so fast the handler couldn't have caught her if he'd tried. Rasoio had to have turning explained to him but this Rider had watched the bike ridden and understood implicitly that she must lean into the corners instead of turning the handlebars.

  
Rasoio called her in and she was shaking when she got off the bike. Rasoio wrapped his arms around her. She was so slight and she had dropped a knee into the corner instinctively. A future track Rider for sure. She put her visor against his chest, tiny compared to the big yellow.

  
When Vale approached the two, Pierre called out in annoyance.

  
"Don't touch her! They don't like humans touching them."

  
Vale just raised a hand at him.

  
Rasoio opened his arm to include Vale in the hug and the red filly opened her arms as well. Vale held them both for a moment, and with his arm around her, led her back from the bike, humming in his throat and making small gestures. He nodded at the man with the green - she moved forward just as eagerly, and rode just as well.

  
[Sad they made you drive, when you didn't like it? Scared to hope?] Vale gestured to the red, ducking so his face was close to her visor.

  
She nodded.

  
[We see about fixing it. Find a place you can ride.] He hugged her close.

  
She went with him when he went to get the green from Rasoio's embrace. She reached out to her sister and two embraced in the shock of their new joy. One by one she collected the other Racing Riders to her, sharing the emotion they never knew they'd could feel. Vale remembered their names without writing them down. The officials wouldn't want to let these mares go. It was important that they be included in the stock he brought back to the Rider stable. There would never be anything here for them.

  
The younger group of mares went about the same way. There were some more of them. 8 of them were Riders.

  
Then they brought the colts. Unlike the mares, there was 3 groups of colts. The 16-25 year olds produced no Riders. Vale wasn't surprised. If Rasoio had been unable to ride, unable to find the satisfaction from karting that it provided to the Drivers, he probably wouldn't have survived to 18.

  
The 10-15 year olds came in. The bike, prominently positioned beside their path, raised 6 curious glances, 2 of whom stopped to stare. When they brought them out one of them struggled and tried to return to the karts, except the whole time he was staring at the bike.

  
Vale had the two who'd stared introduced to the bike first. A grey and a black. Then the curious ones. One of the Dark Blues didn't take to the bike at all, but the other did, as did the second green of the day.

  
The orange who'd resisted being brought along resisted being brought to the bike as well. His shoulders slumped when he was left standing in front of it. He stared down at it dejectedly.

  
"He obviously isn't as interested as you seem to think," Pierre muttered.

  
Rasoio raised his hands, [You want it? Why are you fighting?]

  
The orange continued staring at Spider. [I am matched. My man deserves to be proud. He wants me to drive for him. I am fast. He wants me to love driving. If I have this, I will never be able to love driving.] He looked up at Rasoio. [Please don't make me? Please let me go back to the track. I will learn to love driving, please, I just have to try harder.]

  
Rasoio put his hand on the colt's shoulder. [That won't happen. You know you will never love driving, because you are not a Racing Driver.]

  
The colt jerked away. [I AM! I am a fast driver. I am as much of a Racing Driver as anyone.]

  
Rasoio shook his head and turned the colt's helmet to the bike. [No, Duende. Look at her.] He put his mouth beside the colt's ear, hummed an imitation of the noise the big bikes made.

  
The colt shivered visibly.

  
[Loving her means you are a Racing Rider.]

  
The colt was as slight as the red filly from earlier. He looked up at Rasoio.

  
[Your man will love you more if you are true to yourself.]

  
Vale allowed himself a little smile. Rasoio wasn't pulling his punches. No orange would give up what they'd worked for.

  
Duende got on the bike. He dropped the bike so low into the second corner that his knee hit the ground. The track ripped him off the bike.

  
He skidded along the side of the track relaxing and rolling with the tumble.

  
"This is what happens when you force them. He didn't want to do it. This obviously isn't what he is meant to be doing!" Pierre screamed at him as he ran past. "Now you've damaged a perfectly good colt. He was already matched!"

  
As the Trainers raced across the track to the stricken Rider, Vale let Pierre's disgust and Niki's swearing flow off him, he had never seen a new Rider go after a corner so enthusiastically. Never seen one who loved it so hard. He didn't think his smile could get any bigger.

  
Until Duende popped up and made a hitching run across the track to where Spider had skidded to a stop. He ran his hands over the machine like a doctor examining a patient. [It's okay! She's fine!] He called in big gestures. There was a gash in his knee and his jumpsuit was torn and there was blood running down his leg, but he pushed the bike upright and kick started her, leaning his head close to her to listen. He nodded and patted her.

  
The older Trainers slowed. Vale and Rasoio charged right up to Duende. He raised his hand for high fives. [Did you see how hard she turned? If I hold my leg differently, I could probably get her even lower!]

  
Rasoio high fived him. [Very good. I will show you some things to do.] He leaned close. [Wait until you get an elbow in the first time.]

  
The colt made a winding up noise.

  
"He is fine. A little scrape." Vale told the Ferrari Trainers.

  
"He shouldn't have been out there," Pierre started.

  
"If one of the colts cornered a kart like that you would be signing him up for his team tomorrow," Niki said. "He is obviously one of these Racing Riders. We will have to redirect Pedrosa's focus. That is all."

  
Vale clapped a hand on Deunde's shoulder. The colt wasn't paying attention to the men, he was running his gloved fingers over the bike's handlebars and farings.

  
Valentino had Niki take a picture of him with the 32 foals Ferrari had to acknowledge as Racing Riders, which they had agreed to send to Honda Motorcyles at a very reasonable price. He put an arm around Duende and they smiled for the picture. It was really something to smile about, 12 fillies and 20 colts, all of them coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dani Pedrosa's Duende- crash master from the beginning.
> 
> He gets up, and he'll keep getting up.


	5. Matching Riders

**Matching Riders**  
**Honda Motorsports Development Facility- 2001**

  
"Where is Caution?" Ivan asked. He was coming down the hallway in the other direction, frantic and looking in open doors.

  
Valentino and Rasoio shrugged.

  
"We've got that kid that Honda trained here, and Ricky and Yui are waiting for Caution to come bond with him. But he's not in his stall. He's got his connections shut down and he's not anywhere." Ivan cracked his knuckles in his agitation.

  
[I know where to look,] Rasoio said. He grabbed Valentino's arm and dragged him outside into the bushy area along one of the paths. Sure enough, there was a short poof of brown hair among the evergreen shrubs. Rasoio folded his long body and looked down through the trunks of the shrubs.

  
Caution was crouched as low as he could get, long legs folded double and his lanky arms around his ankles. His big, dark eyes were surrounded on all sides by white.

  
[Hey, brother,] Rasoio gestured. Valentino waved at him from another open space at the bottom of the hedge.

  
[Ratchet wants me to match. With that boy.]

  
[He is a nice boy. You will like him.]

  
Caution rolled forwards until his legs were up at his sides like a cat and his forearms were on the ground. [I don't want to bond with him. I want to bond with you, Rasoio. You're my best friend and I want to be YOUR partner.]

  
Rasoio crawled partway under the bush until he was face to face with him. [I can't bond, again, Little Racing Rider, I have Valentino. We are one.] He petted the teenager's face.

  
[Maybe we could cross bond! Be a set!] He scooted forward, partway out of his hiding spot.

  
[If you still want to bond with Valentino and I after you have bonded with your man, we will discuss it.]

  
Caution withdrew back into the shadows. [What if he is angry with me because HE wants to race?]. He muttered.

  
[He doesn't. He wants to give interviews. He wants to talk to the people. He wants very much to work with you and make your career good. He does not want to race. Not without you.] Valentino put in.

  
Caution looked at him, eyes wide. He crawled out from under the bush. He didn't have his full growth, yet, but he was going to be taller when he was done.

  
Rasoio and Valentino walked up the path next to him.

  
They saw Nicky and Kentucky walking out to the track followed by a big group of the colts. Caution dashed up to them. [My match wants me to race!] He waved. He threw his arms around Kentucky and danced him around.

  
Kentucky patted his back hard.

  
[I get to be like you, Kentucky! Soon we will be racing against each other!]. Caution booped Kentucky's nose.

  
"Yeah, hurry up and get to the big time, brother." Kentucky booped his nose back. "We'll see if you can keep up with the big stallions."

  
[Watch me!] Caution laughed.

  
At the door to the room where he would match, Caution bounced on his toes. [I'm ready, we're gonna have fun!]

  
[Show him how strong you are, Due Caution.] Rasoio brushed his shoulders off and patted him.

  
[When I get my match, I'm going to come back and we're going to cross match with you and Valentino! We'll be the best set, ever!] Caution pulled his black helmet on and slapped the surface, pointing at Rasoio. He pushed through the door where his handlers were waiting for him.

  
[No, we won't.] Rasoio gestured to the closed door.

  
'What are you going to do when one of them comes back and DOES want to cross match with us?'

  
Rasoio put a hand flat on the door. 'For him, I would have a hard time saying "No." He is a foal, now, but when he comes back, he will be a stallion. He'll love Marco too much to ever consider sharing him with me.] Rasoio stroked the door once and pulled himself away.

  
[Is it normal? For them to want to match to other Racers?] Valentino had wanted to ask, for a long time.

  
Rasoio raised an eyebrow at him. [Who do you believe we matched with before we lived with humans?]

  
_Before you lived with humans?_ Valentino thought.

  
[I will sing you the story of the Blue Sky. Someday. When you are old enough.] He kissed Valentino's hair with a big Mwuah noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watching your little ones grow up and learn to be independent is hard.
> 
> Knowing they'll lose their naivete can be even harder.


	6. Safe

**Safe**

**Suzuka 2001**

  
There were some light clouds in the sky, but it was warm. Duende was happy to be on the track. It was his first race. Dani had trusted him to ride the bike back to the garage from the demonstration area. She was a beautiful bike, much nicer than any of the bikes on the training tracks at the stables, even the big stallion's practice bikes.

  
He slowed down a little as he rode, and suddenly he felt her weight shifting to the side. He put his foot down and swiped hopelessly for the ground from his too high perch. Finally his foot touched the ground. Good, she would stop, now.

  
Of course, she didn't. She pushed his leg out from under him and fell down. He bounced onto the ground. The fall had been slow enough neither of them had been injured. He heard footsteps and looked up. There were humans coming towards him. He scooted close to her, thinking he could get her up and ride away. No, they were too close. He skittered backwards on his hands and knees, instead.

  
15 years of Ferrari training telling him he must preserve his identity at all costs, hatred of touching humans, and fear of them warred with his few months at the Rider's stable and the older stallions' reassurances that the paddock personnel wouldn't hurt him. He compromised by growling at them as he backed across the tarmac.

  
They got close to his bike.

  
NO!

  
He moved forward a little, growling through his helmet at them, desperately. He couldn't bring himself to come within reach of a lunging grasp, though. Maybe the stallions were right, and they wouldn't hurt him. [Go away, I'm scared of you,] he gestured.

  
One of them, a female, made noises to the others, and then gestured, badly, [Motorcycle? Motorcycle?]

  
[Fell,] He gestured back, crouching a few body lengths from her.

  
[Motorcycle?] She obviously didn't know what she was saying, someone had taught her a word and it was all she knew. She couldn't help him. If they would just get away, he could get his bike off the ground and go, but they kept milling around, trying to "help" him.

  
Another man came down the road, he waved at the group, and they began to back up, going back to what they'd been doing. The woman stayed for a moment and spoke to the man. He nodded and pointed to the building. He stood with his back to Duende, watching all the people go. When they'd all gone he turned around.

  
He took a big step away from Duende's bike and crouched. He was wearing red and white clothes that looked like team gear, but not any of the teams Duende knew. He had bright eyes and lips spread over his teeth in a big grin. He licked his lips, then made a comfortable idle noise.

  
Duende gasped. [Oh, finally, someone who understands. I dropped her, then those humans came and they made me afraid to try to pick her up. I'm not hurt. Thank you for chasing them away.]

  
The human shook his head. [Too fast. Sounds.] He made an asking noise, pointed to the bike.

  
He wanted to know if Duende needed help with the bike. Duende told him no. He moved forward and the man moved back.

  
The man asked if Duende was safe.

  
He nodded. He got under his bike and lifted her, then ran his hands over her to make sure she was alright.

  
[Ride?] The man asked, pointing at Duende.

  
[I can ride.] He could always ride. He could have broken arms and ride.

  
The man nodded.

  
He was closer to the man now. This human wasn't as scary as most of them were. He had a vague, comforting scent to him, similar to Rasoio's.

  
Of course. Rasoio and the others had been in the paddock for seasons, they must have learned which humans were good and shown them how to be to Riders. [You know Rasoio?] Duende asked.

  
The man smiled pleasantly and nodded. That didn't mean he understood, just that he was acknowledging that Duende was communicating with him. The man waved goodbye.

  
Duende got on his bike. He was careful this time not to slow down enough to drop the bike.

  
He dropped her off at the garage and walked back to Rasoio's little building, where they were all meeting for the first Rider's meeting of the season.

  
Dani was there. Duende could feel him long before he could even see the building. He went inside. He joined hands with his match. There were his brothers. Break and Justice hugged him when he came in. Rasoio cuddled him under his arm.

  
Then he noticed a familiar scent. The man from the paddock was sitting in one of the chairs with his arms crossed and his feet up. Duende felt pleased at his assessment.

  
[Pay attention, rookies,] Valentino called. [And Justice and Toni,] He added, before Justice could pout that he was not a rookie.

  
The 3 younger pairs looked up at him.

  
[Justice and Toni are familiar with the routine in the paddock, but the rest of you are not. So I just want to let you know, remember to listen closely to your teams, and do what they say, they want the best for you. You are who they are here for. Keep in mind, though, that they are here for results. They can forget that results come second to our Rider's safety. If they want you to push in a way that will be too much, you Riders tell your men, and tell Rasoio. Matches, if you feel like something is off with your Riders, ask them, and tell me or Rasoio. This is not car racing, everyone one our grid doesn't have a solid understanding of what Racers are about.]

  
Duende's new friend revved agreement from where he sat at the side of the room. It sounded weird from a human mouth.

  
Valentino looked at him out of the corner of his eye and then continued, [We are new, and because of that we have to make a good impression, but we also have to show them we are to be taken seriously.]

  
There was a knock on the door. [Open the door, please, Break,] Valentino directed.

  
Break rolled his shoulders, pushing his fear off to prove his bravery, and opened the door. Two humans walked in, not looking twice at the mirror images of Valentino, Dani, Casey and Toni. They gave little nods and sat on the couch.

  
[Some humans are more accepting of us than others. Some humans will help you more than others, if anything happens. You can, of course, ALWAYS trust another Rider's match to help you, and your team is here to help you, if they can. The human riders have proven to be our allies, for the most part, but they don't understand us fully. Some are not willing to learn. These men have proven to be willing to accept us and I trust them as much, or more than I trust your teams. Much more than some men on your teams. You will have to make your own judgements on who to trust, and as the seasons change, the faces in the paddock will change.]

  
Justice and Toni kept eyeing the door.

  
[For example, Justice and Toni have noticed that Alex isn't here. He was one of our friends last season. He retired, and won't be riding this year.]

  
Justice made a sad noise.

  
[If he visits, we will introduce you, but for this year, these are the men I want you to know you can trust. This is Marco Melandri, he is riding for Aprilla in the mid-class.] Rasoio sent an image of the bike, the colors, his team garage and the motorhome and how to find them if they needed to. The man had tan skin and dark hair and eyes.

  
Marco waved and gestured something so garbled Duende couldn't understand it.

  
Valentino gestured at the blue eyed, dark haired man. [This is Alex De Angelis, he rides for Matteoni Honda, in the lower class, with you,] Vale gestured. [He will be nice to you off the track, but he will race you just as hard on the track, so treat him with the same respect.] Rasoio showed them Alex's information as well.

  
[Our third guest is new to us this year. He doesn't ride MotoGP, he rides superbike. He will be mostly seeing Kentucky and Nicky, but when he is here, you can rely on him. I have already introduced him to most of you. Dani and Duende, you weren't at the ranch the last time, you wouldn't have met him. He doesn't gesture, but you'd be surprised how easy he is for you to communicate with. This is Colin Edwards.]

  
The man was grinning at Duende.

  
[I met him,] Duende said. [I dropped my bike and he moved the humans away so I could pick it up.]

  
Colin revved agreement again, and the two humans looked at him with confused expressions. Colin revved a friendly noise.

  
Duende revved it back. He'd never heard a human make noises like a Racing Rider, before. He'd always been told all human noises were like the chattering of trees in the wind. No wonder Rasoio loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The difference in attitude towards humans is stark, between Racing Driver stables and the Racing Rider stable.
> 
> Will they be able to maintain it?


	7. Year of Yorgey- Dani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Chapter 1 of 4 of the Year of Yorgey Mini Story. This Chapter is from Dani Pedrosa's POV.

**The Year of Yor-gey**   
**Honda Motorsports Development Facility- 2002**

  
Rasoio took his first 'Real' Championship in 1999. Over the season, Vale felt his influence over the other Riders grow. After the podium, when they had more than a split second to see each other as they changed places, Rasoio took Vale's hands and pressed them to his chest. Vale gasped when he felt the energy Rasoio was putting out. It wasn't physical, it was like mental stimulation.

  
The Rider licked his lips. 'I brought you a Championship,' He nodded, 'Thank you for letting me carry this for you. I will try my hardest to bring you more Championships.'

  
He said it like vows.

  
Vale pressed Rasoio' hands together in his. 'I will stay by your side and I will do everything I can to help you keep doing this. Thank you for bringing this for me. I love it. I will always love you, even if this the only one ever. I know you are the best Rider of all the Riders.'

  
In 2000 Ratchet won two Championships in the 250cc class, Ratchet and Rasoio, the first Riders, were also the first Champions. They kept bringing in new Riders from the Drivers' stables, both matched and unmatched. They matched some of the Colts as Riders. At the end of 2001, Rasoio had his first MotoGP Championship, and Ratchet had the MotoCross and SuperCross Championships again. Their two most recent 'classes' of Colts were riding and demolishing the competition. 

  
Valentino and Rasoio's specialty as Medical Trainers went well. They studied everything from broken legs and dislocated shoulders to obestetrics. Which was a good thing, the two of them got practice in this field right away, because their unlocked doors policy meant that 1999, the first year Vale was a licensed Trainer, 3 of the mares got pregnant.

  
Yui gave Ricky and Valentino several long lectures about idealism and practicality. Rasoio's championship winnings paid for enough full time handlers to keep things in line.

  
They had the recruitment trips down to an art. Kevin was still the best recruiter, but their careers were all progressing, and so the job spread out among them as more and more matches were available to share the work.

  
Despite everything else that happened, Rasoio's 3rd Championship, Ratchet's perfect season, and KDub's broken leg, Valentino always thought of 2002 as "The Year of Yorgey."

  
**DANI**

  
Dani really liked the Riders' Stable better than Ferrari. He smiled across the mess hall where Duende had gone to get napkins. He was so great. He had always gotten along with people easily. Duende was something else, though, it was hard to get to know most people, but they could actually read each other's minds.

'I love you,' he heard, just then, as his partner responded to the unbounded flow of adoration.

'Hey, me too,' Dani sent back.

"What's going on?" asked a voice in heavily accented Spanish. It was the new grip Rider's match. The one from Ferrari. He was about 15cm taller than Dani standing, and now Dani was sitting and he was towering over him. His Rider was behind him, wearing a red hoodie with a black circle with a red X on it. He was staring fixedly.

"Nothing," he looked between them, "Do you want to sit down?"

"Where's your Rider?" he asked, ignoring the question.

"He's over there," Dani pointed, the Rider set out towards Duende like a dog after a bird, "Why? What..." the other guy had walked away after his Rider. What was that about? There were people staring at him. Racing Riders, mostly, but a few confused humans.

He hopped up when he saw the new Rider gesture, [You thought you could get away from me. Now I'm here and we're going to finish this,] at Duende.

They went chest to chest.

"What is this?" Dani demanded, breaking in and pushing them away from each other. "You...what is your name?" He said to the man.

"Jorge Lorenzo."

"Who are you, what do you have to do with Duende?"

"Duende." Jorge smirked. "That's THIS ballsy little bastard?"

Dani stared, eyebrows knit. What made this man think he could say things like that? "What?!"

[We'll settle this on the track. Now I know your secret and I'm going to outlap you for once and for all. You are never going to catch me,] Jorge's Rider gestured at Duende.

Dani's sweet, considerate, generous best friend smirked back, looked the other Rider up and down, and gestured, [Whoever you saw ride has NOTHING on me, X. You think learning to ride will make you able to beat ME, at MY sport? You have been knocked in the head. Yes,] he set down the 3 napkins on the counter beside the dispenser, [We'll go, and when I beat you,] he stepped back up to the other Rider's chest, [You will admit I am better than you, and we will be done having this discussion.]

Duende stalked away. His whole body language had changed. Tingles of fear were being sent through the deepest parts of Dani's brain. The parts that were still wired to be afraid of predators in the shadows.

The strange bond pair walked side by side after him. [I told you we'd find him,] Jorge gestured to his Rider.

Dani followed in a daze.

  
\--

  
Valentino and Rasoio were running the youngest Riders through practice on the little bikes on the little track, when the double doors opened and Duende stormed in between them. The doors fell partway shut, and then were pushed back open as the new Red from Ferrari and his man pushed in. The doors closed almost all the way, before being caught with an audible grunt and Dani slipped in behind them.

Duende went straight to the big bikes. He was pulling Kentucky's bike out, headed for the big, outside track. The bike came up to his ribs. Valentino hurried over and put his hand on the handlebars. [Where are you going?]

The little Orange stared at his hand with shocked outrage. [To RACE.]

Rasoio put a restraining hand on Valentino's chest, [He'll be alright, she's not too big for him. You have to have faith...HEY! Where do you think you're going??]

X was following Duende, with _Rasoio's bike._ [To race.] He didn't even look up.

"Valentino, what's going on?" Dani pulled on Vale's sleeve. "We were having breakfast and then these guys come in and Jorge said awful things about Duende and that Red one challenged him, and now he's acting very odd."

This was the first time Valentino had seen Jorge, other than his initial introduction to the stable. "Yorgey, what is going on?" He turned to the taller boy.

Rasoio took hold of the other handlebar of his bike.

"X's rival left Ferrari, and then X found out he's a Rider and he thought he'd never get to have the chance to BEAT his rival once and for all, and then we got here and it turns out Smurf,"

"Duende," Dani growled.

"Same thing, is a Rider, too. Now X can beat him around the track and be done with it. It will only take a little bit."

"He can't beat Duende!"

Vale held his hands up for silence.

It was broken by a growl as X pulled the bike handlebar out of Rasoio's grasp.

"Jorge," Vale started, "Duende is a much more experienced Rider. I know you have made remarkable progress with X in the weeks you have been matched, but he is still new to Riding. Dani and Duende have been competing for a year already." Rasoio pulled the bike towards him again.

"Against HUMANS," Jorge said. X snatched the handlebars back.

[Put on the batteries,] Duende gestured. He'd been picking up Spanish slang from Dani.

Rasoio growled at X, who let go of the bike and crossed his arms.

[You two race, and you will agree to drop this?] Valentino gestured at the two young stallions.

They both nodded.

Vale sighed. [Let's go racing. Rasoio, let X use your bike.]

Rasoio thrust the bike back at the younger Rider with a huff.

  
\--

  
Duende climbed onto the 500cc bike and stood there, smooth faced and confident, while X, blustering and shouting at Jorge, got himself up and arranged on the other 500cc bike.

Dani patted his partner. [Look at those two, they can't even get along with each other,] When Duende was on the bike, he was much taller. He rested his arm on the Rider's leg.

[X has always been loud. Do not underesteemate him. He was fast in a kart. If he is really a Rider, he will be blistering.] He looked up from Dani's adoring brown eyes, into Rasoio's green ones. [I'm going to beat him, stallion.]

[Don't see checkered flags where none have waved. Things happen.] Rasoio watched the new pair.

Valentino was over talking to them, pointing out features of the track.

[He has never even ridden this track. This will be an end to his challenge. I will win.]

Dani was inclined to agree. Their career was on fire, the only competition, really, had been Casey Stoner's Break and Toni Ellias's Justice. The only reason one of the three of them hadn't won was that Moto2 was NOT set up for Racers. Their team had experienced dozens of odd little setbacks. Next year WOULD belong to a Rider.

Valentino threw fingers and the Orange and the Red took off. Duende had to climb up the bike and over the other side, every corner. The Red certainly had the advantage of reach. He couldn't have been riding more than a few weeks, though, and he hadn't learned any of the little tricks that Duende had worked out from a season's worth of trying new techniques, of working with a match who had years of riding experience of his own, and the benefit of learning from older riders both human and Racer.

Fast, though. Good instincts. He was within range of Duende, pushing, pushing.

"Too much," Dani whispered. He could feel the bike shaking on the corners. It didn't want these speeds on this tiny track.

He could feel Jorge's body language shift beside him.

"Push him, X, he's scared."

On the next corner, the Red dived in on the inside and just as he passed Duende into the apex of the corner, he dropped the bike. He went in a low trajectory sprawl across Duende's front wheel and his bike swiped Duende's from beneath him. Dani was shut back in his own body before Duende hit the ground.

When his Rider opened his mind again, he was sore and disappointed at the loss, but feeling pretty smug that X hadn't been able to handle his pace. He flopped back onto the tarmac and laughed.

Jorge helped his Rider off the track, casting resentful glances at Dani as he ran to where the Orange lay pounding his heels on the ground. X turned around. [This isn't over until I beat you for real.]

Dani sighed. Oh well, they weren't the first jealous rivals. They wouldn't be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can resolve this rivalry once and for all?


	8. Year of Yorgey- Rasoio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the Year of Yorgey Mini Story. This chapter is from Rasoio's PV.

**The Year of Yor-gey**   
**Honda Motorsports Development Facility- 2002**

 

**RASOIO**

  
X waited until Rasoio was between him and the outside of the track and cut the corner wide.

  
Rasoio had nowhere to go but the tire wall. He jammed on the brakes, losing the line, the corner, and his lap time, but keeping the bike out of the wall.

  
'Please have Jorge bring him in,' he asked Valentino, barely controlling his rage. He finished the lap and stopped his bike in her place on the trackside. He climbed off and checked her before turning to the newly matched stallion.

  
He approached X, who was exchanging big, angry gestures with his man, Jorge.

  
[You didn't put your bike away,] he began, feeling he had better control now.

  
The bike wasn't parked, it was just stopped in the walkway.

  
[I'm going right back out,] X gestured dismissively, not even turning to look at Rasoio.

  
[No. You're not.] Rasoio grabbed his shoulder and turned the littler stallion to face him.

  
[Just back off!] X screamed at Rasoio.

  
[Just do as you are TOLD,] Rasoio screamed back.

  
[I don't have to listen to some Yellow. I am a Ferrari stallion.]

  
Rasoio stepped forward. He towered over X.

X set his shoulders and his jaw and glared up at him.

Rasoio felt an irrational desire to strike the colt in the face, not hard, and not with the intent to damage him, just to make him feel a little embarrassment and remember who Rasoio was. This impulse revolted him. He shouldn't have stepped forward and answered the colt's challenge, as though he needed to put himself again some fresh matched foal. Stepping back now would be giving X a win against him, and he would never get it back.

Now he was trapped in exactly the situation he didn't want.

So he ended it.

Hard.

  
[You are a Honda stallion. You are speaking to a Lead Stallion, of the stable to which you will belong for the rest of your life. There is no where else for you to go. You will obey me.]

  
He pushed this as a certainty into X's mind.

  
The young stallion shuddered, his jaw tightening. He stepped back. [Fine. Whatever.]

  
[Excuse me?]

  
[Fine, stallion.]

  
Rasoio hated that he'd done that. There was no reason Rasoio should have had to force him to submit like that. No reason a lead stallion should use his strength against someone who had no chance against him. X was always pushing, though, ever since the day he'd matched.

  
\--

  
A week later, in the middle of the night, Rasoio was walking from the break room to his stall. There was a noise in the common space. He went to see who was out of their sleeping cupboard. The room was dark. He could barely see, and whoever was in the room wasn't open to connections. He could feel the air pressure that meant there was someone in the space.

  
There was someone, sitting along the wall on the far side. Gesturing wouldn't be visible in this light. He couldn't send to closed connections.

  
He had a feeling he knew who would be awake in the middle of the night, away from where he was supposed to be. As he approached, his suspiscion was confirmed.

  
He sat down beside X. He could smell the salt and moisture scent of tears on the colt's cheeks. There was a stiffness in his body language, like he would have been telling Rasoio to go away. Then his body language collapsed and he turned and put his face to Rasoio's chest. His hand hanging on to the older stallion's arm like he was keeping himself from falling.

  
Rasoio hummed deeply, and stroked his hair.

  
He cried on Rasoio's shirt for awhile and then sat stroking Rasoio's bicep. He wiped his face on his sleeve and sat back. 'Why are you here?' He opened his connections and demanded.

  
'Why are YOU here?' Rasoio snapped back, then immediately regretted it.

  
'I asked you first.'

  
Rasoio sighed. He wasn't going to compete. 'I heard someone in here. No one is supposed be up this late. Is Jorge asleep?'

  
'You thought you'd just come in and give me a hard time. I wasn't even doing anything wrong.' He pushed himself away from Rasoio. His feet padded across the floor. The door opened and shut.

  
Rasoio sat for a long time. Trying to work out what had happened.

  
The next day Rasoio was out on the track running the teenage foals through their exercises when X came out. He watched the foals race, and step by step got closer to Rasoio until he was plastered against him. He dropped an arm around X and petted his shoulder as he watched the foals. Riders preferred contact, so this felt comfortable. The possessive way the younger stallion had positioned himself between Rasoio and the other foals was odd, though.

  
[Teach me how to do what you're doing?] X asked.

  
Rasoio smiled at him, finally he was taking some responsibility. He explained his method as they watched. Rasoio pointed out flawed form, and explained how perfect form should look. He pointed out the problems it caused and how to direct the young riders so they could correct it.

  
X listened, smiling up at him, absorbed in his words.

  
A week later Ratchet sat next to Rasoio with a sigh. [I keep catching X bossing the unmatched foals. Today he tried it on Sicuro.] He sighed again. [Before it was done Marco had hit Jorge.]

  
Rasoio made a screeching brakes noise.

  
[When I talked to X about it, he said you were teaching him to be a Trainer, so he had to practice.]

  
[Practice Training the OLDER stallions.] He had more ambition than a stack of Reds. [I haven't been, just teaching him how to be a stallion, but we need to give him something to do with all that energy.]

  
[Are you sure you haven't been teaching him? I told him he couldn't boss the other stallions anymore and he tried to reach in and change what I believed.]

  
Rasoio thought about that development for awhile. [He's seen me do it. It would be hard to learn just watching, but Ratchet, he is smart and strategic.]

  
[He's got to have something to do.]

  
[We could start them learning to Train. Reds are usually naturals.] Rasoio sat back in his chair and looked at Ratchet.

  
Ratchet nodded. [They won't be content just winning, and they will need to learn control and self-discipline before they _do_ start winning.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can Rasoio do to handle this situation better?


	9. Looking Forward

**Looking Forward**  
**Honda Motorsports Development Facility- 2002**

  
After Ratchet told him about X and Sicuro, Rasoio went out to find them. He knew right where to find them, by now. He walked out side the path to the place where it went by the bushes.

 

Sure enough there were two poofs of curly brown hair poking through the shrubbery. Again, he lay on his belly and looked in at Sicuro. He was crouched with one arm around his long legs. Marco was sitting next to him cross legged. Their heads were bent together. They were holding hands.  

  
[Can I come in?] He asked.

  
[Yes,] They gestured in the perfect synchrony of a bond pair sharing bodies. They must have been very upset. Or maybe they would be like Kentucky and Nicky, never really able to let each other go.

  
Rasoio crawled under the bush. Once past the outer edge, there was no greenery, just a cozy space with branches in it. [You've been having problems with X and Jorge?]

  
[He's younger than I am and he thinks he can tell me what to do!] Sicuro pouted.

  
[He tried to make Sicuro do what he wanted without asking. I told him to stop and Jorge told me to mind my own business. Sicuro IS my business.] Marco hung his head. [I hit him, stallion.]

  
[Then Ratchet came over and X got mad at us for getting Jorge in trouble.] Sicuro said, trying to move past the confession before it brought repercussions.

  
[Sicuro, Marco, you must make your peace with X and Jorge. It may take you extra strength to know this, but whichever of you learns to step forward and take control will be next lead stallion. I have seen you challenge Dani and Duende, too. You must learn a way to accept them.  When one of you is lead stallion, he will have to love and rely on the others more than anyone else. The three of you will be Ratchet and KDub and I and you must be brothers. The herd needs you to learn to fight together, not against each other. If there were another stable, I would send you there for your rookie year. Marco, you did training at Honda, but you have never worked at any stable but ours. I want you to talk to Ricky and Ratchet about what it's like at the other stables.] He crossed his arms. He thought. Not many of the Riders had spent long in other stables after matching.

  
Another Racer, then, from another stable. He knew one who liked, if not loved to ride, who could understand the weight of knowing he would lead his stable, someday. [You and I are brothers, from the same Dam. I have a brother from my Sire, he will lead his stable one day, soon. He knows what other stables are like, and he will talk to you about it. About how he must trust his second stallions, I will ask Valentino to have he and his man visit us, here.]

  
[He will help us find a way to get along with X and Jorge?]

  
[If Shoe and Michael can get along with Pedra and Rubens, and Je and Jean, then you can get along with X and Jorge and Duende and Dani.]

  
[Alright, stallion.]

  
[Yes, alright. Now come out of the bushes. There are spiders in here, and if one of them bites you, it will be unpleasant. I do not have time to treat wounds from carelessness.]

  
Rasoio shimmied out from under the bush. On the way out, one of the spiders bit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being strongest doesn't give exclusive leadership.
> 
> How will the three stubbornest colts learn to cooperate?


	10. Year of Yorgey- Valentino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the Year of Yorgey Mini Story. This chapter is from Valentino Rossi's POV.

**The Year of Yor-gey**   
**Honda Motorsports Development Facility- 2002**

 

**VALENTINO**

 

Valentino and Ricky had to take Rasoio and Ratchet's suggestion into account. X wasn't the only problematic one.

  
Cal, Dani, Jorge, Marco, Max and Ryan were standing in the corridor when Vale came home for summer break.

  
Media had been a hassel this time. He was tired. His break was going to be a huge amount of catching up on paperwork. He'd travelled to the younger guys' races to keep up with what was going on with them. He was going to have to work with Cal, because Mackenzie was having some sort of aggression issue where he was sneaking when Cal wasn't looking and ignoring the mechanic's directions.

  
KDub had spent the entire season after February at the stable, and he and Kevin were driving one another crazy. They needed a break and something to focus on other than PT. Kdub could walk again, but he'd been in a kart since the accident. It was up to Vale to clear him to get back on a bike.

  
The boys were new enough to their matching that they hadn't realized that just because they weren't gesturing didn't mean their body language wasn't still SCREAMING information. When three of them folded their hands behind their backs and the other rocked on his feet, their guilt was apparent.

  
Jorge had his shoulders back and a cocky tilt to his head. Vale didn't have to see his hands moving to see him gesture, [Don't worry about him, I'll handle him.]

  
Vale couldn't control the amusement that crossed his lips. Jorge was going to handle him, was he? This would be a show worth watching.

  
Jorge turned around and smiled with surprise. "Hey Valentino!"

  
Interesting.

  
"X and I sure missed you." He hugged Vale.

  
Not subtle, but interesting. Just how badly had they broken the rules?

  
Valentino put on a warm smile. "Hello, Yorgey, I missed you two as well. I was impressed with your race results. I'm looking forward to see how much you've improved here on the track."

  
Jorge's eyes flicked back and forth as he processed this. His body language was asking why Vale was being so friendly.

  
It took great effort not to let his own body language scream back, [Because I know you've done something wrong!] Instead he patted Jorge's back. "I have to work on files, but would you like to meet me on the track in awhile?"

  
Jorge tensed.

  
Oh, so they hadn't broken the rules, yet. Well, if it could be prevented, all the better. "Have you and X practiced yet today?"

  
Tension. "Not yet..."

  
Vale wondered how close he could narrow it. "Well this afternoon," He left a slight pause to feel the relief in Jorge's body. "I will be busy."

  
Tension again.

  
"But tonight," Pause.

  
Tension.

  
"I will be available. After dinner." Another score. "Before bed."

  
Jorge winced.

  
Target achieved.

  
Vale patted him on the back, stepped away and grinned broadly at all the boys. Their guilt and disappointment was visible. They had no idea. None at all. "I'll see you guys as well? A big welcome back session, to celebrate your first season summer break?"

  
They all agreed half heartedly.

  
'Rasoio?' he sent as he walked away.

  
'Yes, Valentino?'

  
'Could you ask Bad Boy to talk to Duende, and Skip or Hot Rod to talk to Rev about what the rookies were going to be doing tonight? With subtlety, please. I don't want them nervous to talk to the senior Riders.'

  
'Of course, brother.'

  
Vale sighed. 'Tell Ratchet I think you're right about X and Jorge. Those two need something to do.'

  
Rasoio sent a mental snort. 'Ya think?!'

  
\--

  
Practice was going very well. Everyone was pulling smooth, neat lines, the matches standing on the sidelines sending directions. Valentino was very proud of everyone. Rasoio was feeling very good. A little cocky, even.

X was leading, he did better with some competition, and not all of the other young stallions could keep up with him. Rasoio was shepherding him, giving him just enough of a challenge to make him feel the pressure he thrived on. It was just playing.

Valentino looked at Jorge. He was grinning from ear to ear, eyes half lidded, fully present with X. It was the best when everyone was enjoying it.

X was clearly feeling brave today. Valentino watched him dropping lower into the corners on each lap. He was talking to his bike constantly, coaxing and praising. The matches learned to hear the sound of their Rider's voice against the background sounds of the bike, though to spectators and cameras, the sounds were hard to distinguish.

Rasoio was listening to him, too. He caught him on the chicane before the hairpin and they went around the hairpin so close that Vale could have put his closed hand in the space between them but just barely. Vale could feel his heart beating in perfect sync with Rasoio's excitement. So he was right there to see it when things went wrong.

The only warning was X making a noise of concern.

Then his bike wobbled. It wasn't even a disastrous wobble, he would have been able to keep himself on just fine, except when the bike tried to fling him off it's back to the outside of the corner, no space between them meant no margin for recovery. He slammed into Rasoio's shoulder. His bike squashed them both into Rasoio's bike for just a moment and they both lost their grip. Rasoio snatched desperately for the handlebars several times in the space of a heartbeat, as the bike got farther and farther out of reach, purely on instinct. When the bike was outlined against the sky, he gave up and twisted his body to try to line up his landing. X had bounced off him, he was over Rasoio's right shoulder. His bike was just bouncing off the Tarmac behind them. The ground was coming up fast.

Rasoio relaxed.

He hit the ground hip first and shifted his weight immediately as he slid across the track.

He could hear the mechanical grunt as X hit the ground a few feet to one side. He was lighter, he had stayed airborne a hair longer.

He slid to a stop at the edge of the gravel trap.

Rasoio rolled to his feet, and fell back to the ground. His hip felt like it was on fire. Footsteps crunched across the gravel. He looked up into Jorge's face. X leaned over him a split second later.

Then there was Vale and the world was a better place again. [Can't stand,] he gestured. [Wrenched my hip.] He grabbed for a hand and pulled himself to his good leg. With Vale under one arm and Jorge under the other, he tried to put weight on his injured leg. It felt like burning slivers were being driven into the joint. He growled and shook his head, [Can't walk on it.]

[X, go get the stretcher, please,] instructed Vale. 'Please ask Hot Rod to come up and take over practice,' he added silently to Rasoio. When X came back, Vale could immediately tell something was wrong with his arm. He was carrying the stretcher in his right hand, but holding his left winged out away from this torso.

Vale and Jorge helped Rasoio down onto the stretcher, then lifted it, X helping hold Jorge's side with his good arm. Rasoio was lying facing backward on the stretcher, looking towards Jorge and X. Rasoio sent to Vale the way X's shoulder looked, he thought it looked dislocated. Vale glanced casually back. The lines of his two shoulders definitely looked different.

'I'll take care of that first, is that all right?'

'Yes, I'm alright, just wrenched.'

He got them into the exam room. He directed Jorge to help X out of the upper portion of his leathers. He explained that he suspected his shoulder was dislocated, and how he would be able to tell, [You see how the left shoulder doesn't follow the same smooth line as his right shoulder? It looks square.]

Jorge nodded.

[Touch here and here.]

X made a face when Jorge touched the two places on the front of his shoulder, but didn't react other than to say, [That is no good.]

Vale demonstrated on Jorge. [Move his arm like this. If you feel resistance, or if it feels unnatural, pay attention to it.]

Jorge raised X's arm hesitently. X thrust the palm of his other hand at Jorge, pushing him away. [That hurts.]

[This is going to hurt even more when they put it back, but then it will feel better,] Rasoio gestured.

[We're going to put it back?] Jorge asked. [Shouldn't we wait for Yui?]

[No, we can handle this. I can take care of it by myself, if you're uncomfortable.] Vale got a sheet out of the cupboard.

Jorge frowned. [I can handle it.]

[I know.] Vale looped the sheet around X and laid him back on the bed, supporting his arm as he shifted. X still flailed at him with the other arm, trying to push him away. Rasoio let out a firm, but gentle revving noise.

The teenager subsided.

Rasoio breathed through his nose, closed his eyes and helped him difuse his pain. [Hold this and pull when I tell you, don't stop until I tell you.] He handed Jorge the ends of the sheet. He smiled at X and petted his face while Rasoio took the bulk of his pain. [Relax. Jorge, now.] He pulled on X's arm while Jorge pulled on the sheet. After a moment there was motion, and X's shoulder settled into a more normal position.

He let out a rev that started high and dropped into a low, almost lugging idle. [Better,] he gestured with the other hand.

Vale turned his attention to Rasoio. His Racing Rider looked up at him with a strained but hopeful smile. He took Rasoio's shoes off and helped him get out of the leathers. Rasoio rolled onto the uninjured side while Vale ran his fingers over his hip, checking to make sure it wasn't dislocated, too. Vale had Jorge follow his movements, telling him what he was checking for, and explained that everything felt normal. He picked up Rasoio's leg and moved it. He had normal movement in the hip joint. Jorge repeated the action, unconsiously moving his own leg in comparison.

Vale caught Rasoio's eye and he nodded. Jorge was going to be a good medic. He had a good understanding of his own body, and he was obviously going to be able to parlay that into an understanding of what others were going through.

Jorge went and sat down by X, patting his hand. It was good that this incident hadn't caused any worse injuries. The leathers had prevented any contusions, and the reletively low speed of the practice bikes meant both Riders would be out on the track again tomorrow.

Vale climbed onto the hospital bed next to his match. [I'm glad you're okay, brother.] He curled his hand over Rasoio's collarbone and opened his mind to share and difuse Rasoio's pain. They stared at each other with half silly smiled on their faces.

"Valentino?" Jorge asked.

Vale looked up. [Yes?]

[He still hurts?]

Rasoio nodded.

[You want us to come over there and help?]

X was still hurting, too, not bad, but 4 sharing the pain of two would be more effective than two sets of two. Rasoio smiled and patted the bed beside him. The two got up. X curled up under Rasoio's arm. Jorge didn't, as Vale had expected, go and lay beside his Rider. He came around to Vale's side of the bed and curled up under his arm, mirroring his partner.

Vale looked down at Jorge's head rested on his chest, lightly fisted hand resting beside his mouth, and stroked the younger match's back. It was hard to go through a crash in your partner's mind with them. It was exhausting, and even though your body wasn't the one with the bruises, your mind had experienced the trauma and was expecting the results. It wasn't a thing Drivers' men went through, since they were just listening to their Drivers. It was common for Rider matches to go into shock when their bodies dumped adreneline into their bodies in response to their Rider's pain. He could feel Jorge's heart still thundering. He adjusted his own breathing to short inhales and longer exhales. Instinctively, Jorge matched his breathing and soon his heart rate had dropped to a more normal level.

He remembered going to Jorge's races, remembered him as a boy. Meeting him and seeing the shining in his eyes. The pride and the ambition. Coming home to the stable, after the races, he'd compared the human boy to the colt. They were so alike. Some Riders and their matches were different. Some were incredibly similar. Born reds, the both of them.

Jorge shifted so he could look up at Vale. "When can we go back out? Can we practice tonight after dinner?" There was fire behind the brown of his eyes.

Vale swallowed. Ambition. Drive. He could see his own reflection in the younger match's eyes. "Yeah, we're going out after dinner, you can come with us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which would be harder to deal with? X? Jorge? Rasoio? Valentino?


	11. Year of Yorgey- Cal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the Year of Yorgey Mini Story. This chapter is from Cal Crutchlow's POV.

**The Year of Yor-gey**   
**Honda Motorsports Development Facility- 2002**

  
**CAL**

  
Stupid situation. Mackenzie's performance had slowly deteriorated over the last year. Valentino obviously thought he had screwed up. They walked out of the practice room. Cal pulled Mackenzie to one side of the corridor. [I don't get why you're being like this. If I'm making stupid decisions about strategy and things, please just tell me.]

  
[Yes. You are making stupid decisions, if I did what you said, I would crash,] Mackenzie gestured back. [When you tell me to shift my weight lower and I'm already as low as I can get, if I drop any more, I am dragging on the ground.]

  
[I didn't say that.]

  
[Then you're crap at gesturing, because that _is_ what you said!]

  
Cal took a step back. [Fine. Do what you want, then.]

  
One of the new guys and his Racing Rider walked past. "Hey, come on, we're going to go out and hangout by the fence."

  
Jorge wasn't it? "Yeah, okay." Cal and Mackenzie followed them out to where all the young matches were sitting around in the sunlight between the loading dock at the back wall of the stable and the 10 foot brick wall at the edge of the complex. Cal sat next to Max Nagl, and Ryan Villapoto whose Riders didn't ride in Moto3. Mackenzie rode Superbike, and Millions and Rev rode Motocross. Millions sat on the other side of Max, holding his hand and watching the more boisterous colored Riders wrestle and play.

  
"Look what I brought," Jorge looked around, and pulled two Pepsi bottles out of his jacket.

  
"Wow, Pepsi," Dani rolled his eyes.

  
Marco sat up straighter. "You don't have to have any, Dani, but I'm going to."

  
Jorge nodded at him and handed him a bottle. He took a drink from the other and handed it to Ryan, whose eyes had lit up.

  
Cal could smell the alcohol. The Riders looked up, a couple of them wrinkling their noses at the smell.

  
[What is it?] Sicuro asked.

  
[It is good,] X took the bottle from Marco after his drink and took a big double swallow. [Try it,] he walked past Rev, who was looking interested, and pushed it at Duende. [If you can take it.]

  
Duende's eyes narrowed. Dani was watching with a puzzled look on his face, now. Duende made eye contact with X and took a double drink as well. The muscles in his neck strained. He took a slow, even breath and then took another pull.

  
"Geeze. Don't pig it all down," Jorge said.

  
Cal took the bottle from Ryan and took a drink, giving a careful shot to Mackenzie.

  
Sicuro took a drink from one of the bottles and squealed. He made a gagging noise.

  
Cal's heart jumped into his throat. Was alcohol bad for Racers?!

  
Then Marco laughed and patted Sicuro on the back. [I know, right? It burns on the way down, but then it feels good.]

  
Sicuro laughed.

  
Duende pointed at him and laughed and laughed. Then he fell over, and they all laughed.

  
They walked past the break room on their way back in, managing, with great force of will to keep straight faces as they went past the open door. None of them stared at Ricky inside doing paperwork as they passed. None of them saw him wrinkle his nose and roll his eyes.

  
Valentino was standing in the common room when they got there.

  
He just raised his hands. [What?]

  
[The back of a big, fluffy bird!] Jorge gestured.

  
"Chicken butt," Ryan whispered to himself as if working this out.

  
The boys all cracked up laughing.

 

\--

 

"Cal, tonight meet us in front of the big tree on the south walk," Ryan hissed as he walked by.

  
'What are we going to do?' Mackenzie held onto Cal's shirt, letting Cal drag him as they walked along.

  
[Can you ask X?] Cal gestured.

  
Mack, walking at the edge of the path, dragging his feet, kicked a rock and stumbled. 'Hey, why did you push me into the rocks?!' He growled.

  
[I didn't. Why are you walking so far over there?] Cal craned his neck, he thought he could see a light up ahead in the bushes.

  
Mack kicked another rock and stumbled sideways, clutching Cal's shirt, which tightened around his neck at the collar. 'You did it again! Stop pushing me off the trail.'

  
'I didn't! Why don't you pick up your feet and walk like you're not a zombie.'

  
'Don't yell at me, I'm just saying.'

  
'Whatever. Did you ask X what's going on?'

  
'No, didn't you ask Jorge?'

  
'How am I supposed to ask Jorge? I could yell, and then everyone would know we're out here.'

  
'Well I'll ask X then, if you're going to make such a big deal of it.' Mack tripped over another rock and just sent a wave of resentment at Cal.

  
"Psst," said a voice immediately to Cal's left.

  
'They're right here on the left in the bushes,' Mack told Cal.

  
Cal crawled into the space in the bushes where Jorge, X, Max, Millions, Ryan, and Dani were concealed.

  
'Stupid bushes!' Mack growled as one of the branches stabbed him.

  
They huddled under the bushes until Marco, Sicuro, Duende and Rev came along the path and crawled in beside them.

  
"Everyone follow me, we're going to go have some fun," Jorge said.

  
They all crawled back out of the bushes. Mack abandoned Cal and went and walked with Sicuro.

  
Jorge stopped outside a much larger building than their stable, farther North on the compound. The Rally stable. The Rally Drivers on the back side of the building had narrow windows in basement window wells. Jorge hopped down into one and pulled a white, handsized object out of his pocket. The other guys stood around watching. He started making marks on the window. There was a smell of soap.

  
He drew a rally car, and a motorcycle jumping over it and another rally car. He turned and gestured at the window, [What do you think?]

  
X giggled and clapped.

  
Jorge tossed Dani the bar of soap. He pulled out another and tossed it to Duende. X and Marco started handing out more soap. The guys all picked a window well.

  
Cal watched Mack and X go off to the one at the end. Cal hopped down into another. He drew a couple cars and a tree and some stick figures watching. He stood up in the window well and looked over to where Jorge was crouching.

  
Jorge knocked on the window. Then again. Then he laughed Cal climbed farther out of the window well to see what he was doing. His knocking had awoken the Racing Driver inside the stall, who was now standing below the window admiring his drawings.

  
Cal crouched back in the window well and knocked sharply on the window. It took a couple knocks to get the sleepy Rally Driver to lean out of his sleeping cupboard and look over to see what was going on.

  
The pale haired Racer in his green pajamas came over, rubbing his eyes. [What?] he gestured.

  
[Pictures,] Cal gestured back.

  
His face lit up in delight when Cal pointed to the pictures. [Oh! Cool! How did you do that?]

  
[It's a trick,] He told the Racer. [You like them?]

  
[The window is fancy,] He said. He turned and looked away, responding to something inside the building.

  
"Time's up!" Jorge called. Cal's Racer dashed back to his cupboard. The Riders and matches all scrambled out of their window wells. They ran off into the bushes and hurried around along the fence until they came back to their own stable, then they crowded into the little space outside the loading dock where they always hung out.

  
A few minutes later, the security guys from the Rally stable came by. "Hey boys, there's been a disturbance over at the Rally building. Anything you want to tell us?"

  
"No one has seen any disturbance here. We all have team events in the morning. Just out here for one last breath of fresh air, you know." A Pepsi bottle had materialized in his hand and he swirled the contents at the guard.

  
The guards looked thoroughly unimpressed.

  
"We were just going in," Dani said.

  
"Want some 18 year old Pepsi?" Jorge held out the bottle of golden amber liquid.

  
The guard shook his head. "Not on duty, kid."

  
"Well, we've got to go get some sleep. For our work tomorrow," said Marco, king of subtlety.

  
They all went in the door beside the loading dock. Jorge left the Pepsi bottle on the milk crate where he'd been sitting. The door closed behind them and they laughed.

  
\--

  
They were all huddled in the shadows around the main stable. [Look what we found,] Jorge gestured. [Tall boys, stand here, cup your hands.]

  
Marco and Sicuro didn't look thrilled with being refered to as 'tall boys' but they stood with their backs to the wall.

  
[X, precious, do the thing.]

  
X took a bit of a run, used Marco and Sicuro as a ladder and was standing on their shoulders in a blink. He reached up and grabbed a ladder hanging from the side of the building. With a creaking grate that had everyone cringing and looking out for guards, the ladder extended downwards with the little Racer assisting it by lifting himself and bouncing his weight on it..

  
It stopped just above head height for Marco and Sicuro and X dropped to the ground while they started scrambling up. Ryan, Rev, Max and Millions followed, and Mack and Cal followed them. Duende run-jumped up the wall to catch the lowest rung and pulled himself up behind Cal.

  
Cal was still low enough on the ladder to hear Jorge murmur, "Just don't be so stubborn."

  
Then he heard a little grunt and Dani's boots landing back on the pavement. "You could have gotten it a LITTLE lower," he growled.

  
"Then I couldn't have helped you."

  
 _Oh fuck._ Cal thought. _He's going to get you for that, Jorge._ He REALLY wanted to turn and watch just how Jorge accomplished boosting Dani onto the ladder for maximum humiliation, but Duende was right behind him, and would see him looking, and Cal didn't want to involve himself in their little pissing battle. He just wanted to know 103% of the details.

  
The space of the roof they'd climbed onto was pretty small. They weren't crowded on it, but they were in the shadow of the larger office building beside it.

  
[Ready?] Jorge asked as he and X arrived last on the roof. He started to sprint. He stepped up onto the ledge and flung himself over the gap between the buildings, onto the lowest level of the main office. X was half a step behind him and landed with a flourish.

  
They bowed to their audience.

  
[Always ready,] Dani gestured back. He and Duende were in perfect sync when they lept across the space.

  
Ryan and Rev followed with a laugh.

  
'Let's go!' Mackenzie nudged Cal.

  
Marco and Sicuro were going. They ended their jump in twin somersaults.

  
Mackenzie went, and Cal with him. Mackenzie's jump took him well beyond the edge of the far roof and he crashed into X and Rev. The three laughed.

  
Max and Millions jumped holding hands.

  
Jorge led them to the wall where the building rose to the highest level. This ladder was within easy reach, they all climbed up. The building was only about 4 stories, but they sat on the wide roof and watched the lights. A bit of the town was visible beyond the trees, and the headlights on the road.

  
Ryan made up a story about the cars in the distance being an endless race carried on by the spirits of all the lost Racers over the years.

  
[If I die, can I go race there?] Rev asked, tucking under Ryan's arm.

  
[Of course, even matches get to race, there. They can be as fast as their Racers, there.]

  
A dozen years later, after Rev's crash, Cal thought about that night, and wondered about the Racing Driver heaven Ryan had talked about. He wondered if somehow, Ryan had sensed how meaningful that hope would be.

  
On the way back, they were all tired, and the jump across the 5 foot gap between buildings was undertaken with none of the flourishes from earlier. Except Mackenzie, who way overshot the gap again.

  
[You don't have to show off,] Cal told him impatiently.

  
[I'm not! I just wanted to make it. I don't want to fall,] Mack shot back.

  
[Do you have to argue with everything I say?!]

  
[NO!]

  
Cal rested a hand on Mack's sleeping cupboard after they'd gotten back to the stall and he'd put his Racing Rider to bed. _Why are we having such a hard time getting along? Why does this have to be so hard?_

  
\--

  
Winter was over. The rookies had worn the lead stallions to a frazzle. The night of the night ride on the dark track, Valentino was so enraged Cal had been SURE he was going to burst a blood vessel and drop dead in front of them.

  
They had spent weeks cleaning a rainbow of colors off of every surface under 5 feet tall after they snuck boxes of markers into the foals' wing.

  
Ricky had personally had a disappointed talk with Dani, Jorge, X and Duende that had them all subdued and ended ALL nighttime excursions for 2 weeks; X and Duende had been indescrete in one of their screaming matches and the foals had picked up some of the filthiest language Cal had ever seen a Racer use. The mischief started up again, but X and Duende were more careful with their language, and their animosity didn't surface as blatently when they were off the track.

  
That had been after they had carved all the bars of soap into suggestive shapes. Which was funny at the time, but not so funny the first time you had to wash your hands with a little soap dick. And definitely not funny when Millions wouldn't stop making jokes about the foam.

  
It was only a few weeks until the season would be starting again.

  
Which was a problem for Cal and Mackenzie.

  
They could now barely speak on civil terms.

  
How were they supposed to get through a season? Their last team remembered the problems they'd been having at the end of the last season, and were not enthusiastic about them. Vale and Ricky were sending each other looks whenever Cal and Mack couldn't keep it together in front of them. Looks like the Trainers at Mercedes had been giving each other right before they'd talked to Cal about the end of Mack's career. Right before the Rider test.

  
Maybe it wasn't being a Rider, maybe there was really something wrong with them. Cal was trying to keep calm in the face of it happening AGAIN, but he was getting edgier, and Mackenzie was, too. There were nights they just held hands and cried. Neither of them wanted it like this, but nothing they had tried had worked. What were they going to do?

  
He was washing his hands in the head, with a fortunately bar shaped bar of soap, when Jorge came into the bathroom and leaned against the sink next to him, with crossed arms.

  
"I am worried about Mack," Jorge said. "The way he is, he should not be racing."

  
Tears sprang to Cal's eyes, but he didn't let them fall.

  
"He will hurt himself, or hurt someone else."

  
"What can I do?" Cal whispered. "End his career?"

  
"You must speak to Vale."

  
"I've been talking to Valentino all winter, it's obviously not getting better."

  
"It cannot be hopeless. My cousin wears glasses, and they have new operations. Vale is a doctor, he will know how to get glasses."

  
He gaped at Jorge. "Glasses?"

  
"The night we drew for the Rally Drivers, X said his cars did not look like anything. We all know how mishapen his soap carvings were," there had been a lot of joking about how bad Mack had been at getting the soap to look like anything, "When we jumped to the roof, he jumped much farther than the rest, as though he couldn't be sure how far it was. He is normally very graceful, but when we walk at night, he must walk with someone or he stumbles. He disobeys you and ignores us, but only when we sign to him. He wishes to do what you ask, but he cannot tell what you say."

  
All the ignoring what Cal was saying, all the anger when Cal 'walked him off the path,' when he misinterpreted the team. "Oh hell," Cal said. "Why didn't he SAY anything?"

  
Jorge shrugged, "How would he know?" He leaned off the sink. "You talk to Vale. He will look very distinguished with glasses." He shouldered his way out of the bathroom.

  
Cal started to laugh.

  
\--

  
Mackenzie did look distinguished in his glasses. Cal had a matching pair without perscription glass. The real trick had been getting Mack to accept the idea of contact lenses for racing.

  
He had squealed and fought like a demon the first time Cal proposed to poke him in the eye. So Cal had put the contact in his own eye to demonstrate. [A lot of the Racers wear them, because their eyes don't match. Do you want to talk to one of them about it?]

  
[Who wears them?] Cal wanted to know.

  
They had some visitors a few days later. Michael and Shoe showed up and talked to Mack about contact lenses. Shoe showed him how he wore green contact lenses, to make his dark brown eyes look like Michael's green eyes.

  
[I wear contact lenses like Shoe does,] Mack preened to the other young Riders the next day. He had easily accepted the older, multple world Champions' help in learning how to apply and care for his contact lenses. Now his toiletries kit included a bottle of saline solution and a figure 8 shaped contact case.

  
And his rebellion had entirely disappeared. He was more bidable than ever. Their relationship had grown even closer. Their career was on the rise.

  
They laughed together again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Jorge and X make good Trainers?


	12. Stable Owners

**Stable Owners**   
**FIA Global Headquarters- 2003**

  
The governors of the Federation Internationale de Automobile called Valentino and Ricky in separately for their stable ownership admission interviews.

  
Valentino was surprised by civility with which he was greeted as a stable owner applicant. It was all very buddy buddy. The leaders of FIA shook his hand and treated him as an old friend. They asked him how he planned to pay for maintenance of a stable. He pointed out that for the foreseeable future, Riders would be dominating the motorcycle sports, and since none of the other stables were interested in moving into the field, for the foreseeable future, the Riders would continue to belong to the World Motorcycle Center, which would be under Honda's management until they could became self sufficient.

  
"The Driver's stables might not be willing to allow the WMC to have a monopoly on motorcycling. When they are ready to support their own Riders teams, you will find it difficult to buy their resources out from under them."

  
"The rally stables operate on a similar principle," Valentino said, quite relaxed. "Some stables maintain rally teams, but the Drivers are all overseen by the World Rally Drivers."

  
"How can we be assured you will follow appropriate FIA procedures? Some of the policies you're pursued in your tenure as a Racing Driver Owner have been a little questionable."

  
Valentino started to answer the question.

  
The door to the conference room opened and a man came in. He was holding a lead stick in on hand, and a cattle prod in the other. Valentino's heart sunk. Ratchet was taking mincing steps to compensate for how closely his ankles had been chained together, and his wrists were cuffed as well.

  
His helmet was off, face totally exposed, and totally calm. [It's alright,] He gestured to Valentino, hampered by the chain holding his wrists at his hips. [I'll keep you safe.]

  
Valentino's heart sped up. Ratchet's big brown eyes had resignation in them. No. Why was Ricky's partner here? Why did they bring Ratchet instead of Rasoio?

  
If Ratchet was here with Valentino, there was only one place Vale's other half could be. With Ricky. In this same condition. His Rasoio, bound like a criminal.

  
"If you ever cross us, Valentino. This one will suffer unimaginably."

  
He couldn't move fast enough to stop the handler from tapping the cattle prod on Ratchet's chest. The Racing Rider's head snapped back and his legs buckled. His freckles stood out on his flushing skin.

  
Valentino was on his knees beside his best friend's partner. The handler swung the cattle prod back within range of the straining Racing Rider. "Please. Don't hurt him," Valentino whispered. "We won't challenge FIA."

  
"You better hope Ricky is as eager to protect your partner as you are to protect his. You better make sure he does what we say."

  
That was it, then. They were going to make he and Ricky police each other. Divide them against each other.

  
The handler moved away so Valentino could curl against Ratchet, cupping his face in his hands and looking into his proud stare.

  
[Don't be afraid, stallion,] Ratchet whispered.

  
Somewhere in the world, his Rasoio was with Ricky like this. He hoped Rasoio was being as brave. He clung to Ratchet with ever ounce of strength he hoped Ricky was pouring into Rasoio right now.

  
[I'll be brave like Ricky is,] he pressed the gestures to Ratchet's skin.

  
This was probably a very effective tactic in most situations. Except Valentino knew Ricky and Ratchet better than anyone.

  
He was Ricky's first convert to the cause he preached, and the one who believed most strongly. Rasoio believed. They would do what it took. After all, you couldn't become a saint without first being a martyr.

  
And performing some miracles.

  
Miracles like building a stable that treated Racers like they deserved to be treated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this development divide them or bring them closer together?


	13. Sete's Curse

Qatar 2004

  
Rasoio was in the medical center, growling at Valentino and guarding his hand.

The medics were pressed against the walls watching, afraid. The three of them watched wide eyed as Valentino stood in the center of the room and stared down his Racing Driver.

[I know you wrecked,] he gestured. [I know your hand hurts. Let me fix it.]

Rasoio growled. He shook his head.

Valentino crossed his arms.

The door opened and Sete Gibernau walked in. He looked at the medics cowering along the walls and placid Valentino, who didn't take his eyes off his double to turn.

The Racing Rider spotted Sete and snarled, [It's YOUR fault!] His gestures were hindered by limited mobility, he stepped forward like he was going to tell Sete off. He pointed at Sete and then down at his own injured hand, which made the point clearly enough. Valentino grabbed his arm before he could go past and shook his head, once.

Sete went wide eyed, too and backed out the door.

Valentino got Rasoio calmed down and managed to get his hand treated.

  
Malaysia 2004

  
The next weekend Sete stormed into Valentino's trailer and pointed at Rasoio. "What the hell is that thing?!" He demanded. Max Biaggi followed him in and closed the door quietly behind him. He stood behind Sete with a smirk. "It's not even human!"

Valentino stepped in front of Rasoio, who, responding to a silent order, retreated into the farther room. "You knew." The statement was simple, quiet.

"I saw that thing making unholy noises and terrorizing the medics. Then he came after ME."

"Rasoio terrorizes no one. He is hurt and angry because you set him up to crash. He would never touch you." Valentino smirked.

"This is the reason you win so much. You're cheating. Using some steroided up clone or something." Max murmured.

"A robot!" Sete said.

Valentino looked passed Sete. "You want accuse me of cheating?"

"Do you even RIDE the bike?" Max asked.

Valentino crossed his arms and leaned back. They were in his territory, now, where HE knew the landscape. "No."

Max had clearly been braced for a different answer. "What?"

"Never. It's never me on the bike, it is always him."

"Then you ARE a cheat. Letting people believe you're the one doing the racing instead of it."

Valentino was in Sete's face the moment that word was out of his mouth. "If you have a problem, bring it up with the FIA, please, I'm begging you. If you do, you will NEVER win another race against us. Not until the moment I leave MotoGP."

Sete stormed out of the door. "Don't think I won't!"

Max stood there after Sete left, jeering. "So it isn't you out there. Is it you on the platform?"

"Yes."

"Is it you in Urbino?"

"Yes." What was Max getting at?

"How does it feel when your hometown cheers for you when all the bravery belongs to a man who isn't even there? How do you face them every day with your false face?"

Valentino glanced away from Max's burning eyes.

"Never act like you are the bigger man to me again, Valentino. You are a coward." Max turned his back and walked out.

Valentino threw the first thing that came to hand at the door after him with a scream.

Rasoio's first championship trophy lay dented on the floor, until the opening door nudged it out of the way as Nicky and Casey slunk in to soothe Valentino's temper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did Valentino curse Sete and not Max, who hurt him so much worse?


	14. Surgeon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a name you may not know. See end notes for reference link.

**Surgeon**   
**Renault Productions- 2004**

 

Footsteps echoed down the corridor where Vale and Ricky sat on uncomfortable chairs, waiting for Alessio's sedation to wear off.

"He's not going to like it." Ricky said, again.

Vale covered his face and groaned. "I can't keep DOING this, Rick."

Ricky put his hand on Vale's back and rubbed. "I know, man. I agree we have to ask, but Vale, you can't browbeat him into agreeing. We'll find another option, okay? I'm not going to let you keep going through the wringer like this, but even if he agrees, it's not going to kick in today."

Vale scrubbed his hands over his face, then patted Ricky's leg. "I know. Having an end date will be something."

When the nurse told them the sedation would be wearing off, soon, they went in and sat in different uncomfortable chairs.

The wreck had been bad, but Alessio hadn't been in it. His eyes opened. He watched the ceiling for awhile. "How's Attivo?" His voice was dry from the drugged sleep.

"You got very upset when you couldn't get sense out of him in the helicopter. The medics sedated you." Vale tried with the lightweight information first.

"I know. He was gibbering. Is he awake yet? How bad were his injuries? When will I be able to go help him?" He shifted from side to side, testing his balance. "I want to go see him."

Vale and Ricky moved off the chairs and onto the hospital bed on either side of Alessio. He was still fuzzy minded enough to be confused about why they were doing this.

"Don't scream." Ricky told him. This frightened him more than anything so far had.

"His injuries were very bad. When you were sedated, we lost him." There was horror in his eyes, but Vale gestured at him. [Keep listening. The company is here. They are going to take him away. We are going to take you to say goodbye. You must be quiet or they will catch us and stop us. Then you must think about what to do next and we will make a plan. We need you to do one more thing for him before you think about following him. We go see him now. No thoughts of death yet, yes?]

[Yes, stallion.] Alessio gestured, very small.

[Good.]

The two Trainers lifted him into a wheelchair and put on their professional faces.

No one questioned Trainers transporting a patient through the medical wing.

[Where are we?] Alessio gestured, looking around the unfamiliar stable corridor. Stable's didn't have the public brand logo stamped on everything. Plausible deniability meant they had the standard Race Training Facility logo on everything.

[Renault. It was the closest stable with a qualified medic,] Vale gestured back.

They took Alessio into the exam room where Attivo was laid out. They admonished him again to be quiet, and waited outside. He took a long time, and while Vale couldn't blame him, they couldn't risk getting in trouble. This wasn't their stable, the rules were different here. Ricky slipped inside the exam room and brought a stonefaced Alessio out with him.

They went back to his room and got him dressed and ready for discharge. [Now we will talk about what to do next,] Ricky gestured.

Alessio ran his fingers through his hair. [A needle is usual, yes? It won't hurt for long?]

Ricky shook his head. [No. Listen. You need to listen before you think about following him.]

[Attivo died of wounds that could have been fixed.] Vale said this close to Alessio's face. [I couldn't. They didn't teach me surgery. Some Trainers have surgical training, I do not. It would be too expensive to buy one from one of the big stables, they are too rare. The Riders stable NEEDS a surgeon. Someone who knows Riders, not Drivers, someone who is already 007 status. They won't let me go to university while Rasoio can still race. They make too much money from him, his wins are worth more to them than Riders' lives. Someone has to go to school, Alessio. We need it to be you.]

He shook his head. [No, I want to go be with Attivo.] He looked at Ricky for support that wasn't there. "How am I going to explain that I stopped being a motorcycle racer and started going to university?"

Vale frowned.

"You won't have to." Ricky licked his lips and went on, "Attivo died, in front of a lot of people. That activated the public death clause in your contract."

Alessio looked blank.

Vale covered his eyes and mouthed filthy words in Italian.

Most of the boys who signed their lives away to the companies had only a vague idea what it was that they were doing. You might be in F1 was as far as they heard. Vale and Ricky had been in charge of explaining Alessio's contract to him, after he'd signed it, but there were hundreds of pages of legal terms, and it was impossible to remember all the contingencies.

"People saw Alessio Perilli die. They saw you die. FIA will finance your reconstructive surgery and your new identity. They can be very generous in situations like this. If you ask them, they will set you up with good prospects."

"They will arrange for you to go to a University. To learn surgery. You can come back and save Riders." Vale continued Ricky's explanation. "We need you to agree."

Valentino's voice cracked. He dropped into Italian, "I need you to agree, Alessio. I held Attivo's hand while he passed, because some idiot medic sedated you, and he could have been alright, but I did not know how to fix it. I did not have the tools. I could just see what needed to be fixed. Maybe he would have gone anyway, but maybe not. The company will not let me help. Please, I need you to help me." He squeezed Alessio's hands between his.

Alessio's chin wrinkled and his lips pursed. "I miss him. I will have to always...miss him." He closed his eyes and turned away.

"We won't force you. If you want to go, we'll help you," Ricky said. [We'll find another way.] He gestured to Vale.

"All the foals. This could happen to any of the Racers. It shouldn't be allowed. Someone has to do it. I can't promise I will make it, but I will try."

They thanked him, and stayed with him until the FIA officials came and took him away. The news reported Alessio Perilli's death. After the man walked out of the medical wing with the two FIA officials, he became someone else, and Ricky and Valentino would just have to hope, and wait. This was the third time they'd tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forza Alessio
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alessio_Perilli
> 
> What else might matches do after their Riders and Drivers die?


	15. New Hire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains another name you might not know. See end notes for reference link.

**New Hire**  
**World Motorcycle Center- 2006**

 

"Look at this." Ivan handed Valentino a thin stack of papers.

  
He read the first page.

  
Attn: Valentino Rossi

  
He opened to the second page. It was a job application cover letter. They got them all the time, exclusively from people who didn't understand what the World Motorcycle Center was. They saw the name and assumed it was- any number of things that weren't instead an unimaginative name for a stable. FIA facilities didn't accept unsolicited applications. If a stable or team wanted you, they headhunted you.

  
And yet, who would know that Valentino worked here, and would have hiring and firing power? A chill went up his spine when he saw that it was an application for the position of in- house surgeon.

  
With trembling hands, he read the name, 3 times. Harbin Chevalier. It didn't sound familiar, but it wouldn't, would it? Anyone who would know to send this application to Vale would have an identity that began after the last time Vale had ever seen him.

  
He sent an email with a time and date for an interview to the email address CayuseMD1998@hotmail.com. Subtle name. Very subtle. He didn't have to do the math. There was only one man this could possibly be. He read the qualifications. Harbin had graduated with honors from a well known medical school in the United States. There were a bunch of accreditations from before his first year of school that would all be total bullshit. Things the FIA had invented to provide Mika with a background that would make the Medical program hungry to have him. 'Pax would have been so proud of you, Mika.' Valentino thought.

 

His email got a response immediately. It was professionally written, but obviously written by someone who was confident of his success. Vale did feel very inclined to hire him on the spot, but it was conceivable that this was not who he assumed it was.

  
The interview was set for two days later. Vale had the receptionist at the front building on the lookout for his 9am meeting. He was just sitting in his office waiting. Ricky was out doing media, Vale really, really wished he wasn't. Kevin was gone, too. Vale didn't feel comfortable asking one of the younger guys to sit in here and interview Mika. He drew another square on the scrap of paper he was using as a phone message pad. Mika had been here before anyone BUT Kevin. Nicky would be a little much, and he was the only one of the guys Vale would have normally considered. He drew another square.

  
He had to have someone else here, if only to keep him on track in this weird situation.

  
There was a knock on the door. Vale jumped, and the pen scratched all the way across his scratch paper, tearing off a big chunk.

  
Casey leaned in. "Stallion?" He had a pleasant smile on his face. "Ratchet asked me to come up here and give you a hand. What can I do for you?"

  
Vale smiled. Ratchet. Ricky may as well be here. It would be inappropriate to have a Rider in Mika's interview, but Ratchet knew the guys like the back of his hand. Casey's Break didn't have the most wins, but both of them had their heads on straight. He would be a good guy to have with him. "We've got someone coming in today. He was gone before you got here, but he was matched to one of the Riders we lost." He took a deep breath. He had only known Pax for two years, but losing ANY of the Riders hurt.

  
"We're getting a surgeon?!" Casey stepped to the edge of Vale's desk, blue eyes lighting up.

  
"How do you know that?" He hadn't even told the rest of the story.

  
"All the guys know. Break and Bad Boy were really close to Attivo. They got pissed off when they found out Alessio wasn't coming back. So KDub told them how you guys are looking for a surgeon, and you ask the broke...um..."

  
Vale's head snapped up.

  
Casey looked at his feet.

  
"The what?" Vale's face was hard. He hated that expression. He knew Ricky actively discouraged it, too. He knew for a fact it wasn't as much of a problem in the other motorsports. Maybe it had been in the old days of F1, but no one had died in F1 in a dozen years. "No, don't say it, I don't want to hear those words cross anyone's lips once Mika is here. I won't put up with it." He was going to put anyone in their place who thought they could call guys whose riders had died 'broken matches.'

  
"It's Mika, then? 8 years of medical school? He's back?" Casey had never met Mika, but he was knowledgable about the short history of the stable. He knew who the early matches had been, and he could probably recite the short list of lost Riders.

  
"I can't be sure. I think so. I want you to sit here while I interview him, and let me know what you think, afterwards. You don't have to ask him questions, just pay attention."

  
The phone rang. It was the receptionist. Vale and Casey went out to meet the interviewee. The man was standing in front of the desk in the reception area.

  
He didn't look familiar. At all. He was the same height, and about the same build, but not as in shape as Mika had been, nearly a decade before. He moved, though, and when he was walking toward them, Vale felt Rasoio in his mind with him, watching, recognizing the way he moved.

  
He shook Vale's hand like an old friend, and, did his eyes seem familiar? Vale couldn't be sure. He hadn't seen Mika in so long. If this was Mika, the FIA had paid a good surgeon to alter his appearance. His facial structure was different. 'He still looks like Mika, just a little different, he still speaks body language with Mika's voice.' Rasoio assured.

  
"Harbin?" Vale asked.

  
The man's mouth quirked. "Yes, Valentino, Harbin Chevalier, I'm here to be your in-house surgeon. Sorry it took me so long, brother." His voice was rougher, older, but it was Mika's voice.

  
"This is Casey Stoner. One of our rising stars." They shook hands. "Would you like a tour, Harbin?"

  
"Sure. It's been awhile since I've been to the Honda Motorsports Development Facility."

  
"This is actually not Honda's facility. It's ours." Valentino smiled and gestured around the extensive grounds.

  
He looked surprised when they led him out the door and across the campus to the main Rider's stable. "The last time I remember, the motorcycle center was around the back of the Honda facility. This whole campus is yours?"

  
"We've expanded a lot since the last time you were here. This is the World Motorcycle Center." He waved his hand at the facility layout map as they entered. Once they were in the doors, he turned around. "A lot has changed, Mika."

Harbin smiled broadly and they hugged. "It's Harbin, now, Vale. Michael Paquey died that day with Pax. I've built a new life. All of it aimed at this. 8 years of training. I'm here to help the Racing Riders, Valentino. To save them from dying like he did. I'm not Mika anymore, though." He smiled. "I've been following the races. I've made a game of guessing which of the riders are our guys. You I guessed." He grinned at Casey. "Are you sure your Rider wouldn't be happier in motocross?"

Casey grinned widely. He'd heard stories about Mika and Pax, and now here was Mika, Casey had never met him so he wasn't jarred by the difference in appearance, asking him questions about his Rider, just like any of the older matches would have done after being out of touch. "His name is Break. He liked drift, but he says why should he have to pick between drift and grip when he can have both?"

"I can see his point." Harbin said, turning to Vale, "Rasoio is certainly proving the difference between Riders and humans, isn't he? He started winning and just didn't stop. And Ratchet, damn, why does anyone else even bother? I can picture the other guys' faces. 'Oh crap, Carmichael's here. So...racing for second, again,'" He laughed. "So how big is the stable now? Not 50 or so, anymore, judging by the fact you got moved out of the Rider's wing."

"Our budget topped out at 100 per year in 2000."

"Then Ratchet had the perfect season in '02," Casey put in. "And Kawasaki leased him."

"That increased our budget, but most of that went to new handlers and paying off the bills."

"Until he had his second perfect season in 2004."

"And that was the year Yamaha set up to lease Rasoio. So between them we bought property in Central California for the second branch of the stable. The motocross Riders will be going there in 2008, if the stable gets built in time. We have 900 Riders here, now, and we're set up to buy out contracts on another 600 by the time the new stable is done. The American stables are HUGE. In the 5 years after that, assuming we're still winning," he laughed, "We'll be able to buy the Riders from 2, hopefully 3 more of the American stables, and we'll get all the Riders that are weaned from the European stables every year. We're focusing on getting the bulk of the populations, the ones that are just sitting in stables wishing they could ride. Until we've cleared every major Driver stable, that's our priority."

"900," Harbin breathed, "Not just you and Ricky as Trainers anymore, obviously."

"No, Chad and Ivan are both licensed, now, and Nicky. You remember Nicky? Yeah. We've got Casey, Jorge and Ryan on fellowships. Marco and Alvaro are still on their apprenticeships."

"And me, a surgeon with no Trainer license. This will be interesting."

Vale nodded. "I've learned a little more than first aid since you left. I still need to learn anything you can teach me. I hope you kept your textbooks."

"Gray's Anatomy doesn't really cover what we're doing."

"It will cover enough. Physically they're the same as Drivers. There's a book. It's not Gray's but Constalioga went through and checked all the data himself."

"Who?"

"Oh, you don't remember Johnny, he's the head Racing Driver medic. He's a genius. He's been a lot of help."

"You've been on your own a long time, haven't you, Vale?"

"Yes," Vale sighed. "A very long time."

"Not anymore, brother." Harbin put his hand on Vale's shoulder. "Let's see your medical center. I hope you'll have room for a second Doctor in there. I wouldn't dream of taking YOUR spot, Doctor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forza Michael
> 
> https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Micha%C3%ABl_Paquay
> 
> Would you go through 8 years of medical training and come right back to life in a stable?


	16. Prioritize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For further backstory, see the first two chapters of Hospitality- http://archiveofourown.org/works/10324700/chapters/22824911

_**World Motorcycle Center- 2007** _

Ricky leaned into the break room. Valentino could tell it was bad news. "Aprilla just called," He leaned against the door frame.

"Put them through," Valentino pushed the bills he was working on to one side and started rooting through the cupboard to find the Aprilla file. Were they demanding more money? Promises was all he had. Promises that if they gave him a bike that could move, Jorge would give them wins AND a sponsor's wet dream.

"Valentino. They aren't fielding a bike."

He stiffened. "The contract. When we signed X to them it was understood he would ride for them in Moto2 and when he was ready, they would field a bike in MotoGP. They will be breaching their contract."

"They bought it out."

"THEY WHAT?" He slammed the cupboard. "That money does us NO good if X has no MOTORCYCLE under him next season."

Ricky sighed. "I know, man."

"Damn it. Ducati is full, I cannot call Honda, Dani will not have it. Honda have seen them, they will not...consider...I couldn't ask it." He shook his head. "Can't we...Can't we get another team authorized to have a Racing Rider?"

"Not in time for the season. FIA will drag their feet, like they did for Ducati." Ricky ran his hand up the wall. "Vale, he should have been in MotoGP last year. He's already had two Moto2 Championships, he's going to sour."

Valentino turned around. He had tears rimming his eyes. "Rasoio will hate me."

Ricky stiffened and turned, looking down the hallway outside the break room. "Great secret keeping, Ratchet," He murmured.

Rasoio stepped past Ricky, nodding as he came into the break room. He was still wearing his leathers from the track. He looked at his match, set jawed. Then he looked to Ricky and back.

[Is it true? X will have no team next year?]

[Yes.]

[You are conflicted about what to do?]

[Rasoio, we'll figure something out,] Valentino's shoulders sagged.

[Don't pretend there are options. You know what you will do.]

[I know you don't want...]

[Don't tell me what I want matters,] Rasoio cut him off. [He should have had his own team, Valentino.]

[He was SUPPOSED to. What am I supposed to do?]

[The RIGHT thing!] His gestures were big.

Ricky was staring at the floor, like what he could see of their conversation from the corner of this eye wasn't telling him everything he needed to know.

With a swallow, Valentino shook his head, [I'll call Yamaha, then, if that's what you want.]

[X is MY responsibility, I wouldn't have him anywhere else.]

He stood with his arms crossed and watched.

Valentino dialed the phone. "Hey. Yeah, this is me. I'm actually calling in behalf of the Center. We have a Rider who is looking for a spot next year. Yeah, same deal. Okay, call me when you talk to them. We'll work out the deal." He dropped the phone back on the cradle.

[Was that difficult?] Rasoio stared at him with hard intensity.

[No,] Valentino swallowed.

[The next part will be.]

"Do you want me to do it?" Ricky asked from the doorway.

Rasoio couldn't understand the words, but understood the intention and turned and glared at Ricky. [X is my responsibility, this is Valentino's responsibility.] He turned back to Valentino. [Call him. Tell him I need to speak to him.]

Valentino nodded. He turned back to the phone. "Hey," He said to the voice on the other end, "We need to talk. Can you come to the Center? Okay. Thank you. I will see you when you get here."

He turned around and nodded to Rasoio.

[You're going to translate while I tell him.] The Rider told him.

[I know,] Vale whispered.

[I want you to be there, when I explain what I had to do. That X will be my teammate next year, because I can't make him anyone else's responsibility. That the Riders have to come first.]

That was when his control broke.

[I can't do it alone.] His lip quivered and he collapsed against Valentino. [I need you to be with me when I tell Colin we stole his spot on the team.]

  
\--

 

Colin took it pretty well. He looked at Valentino, then back to Rasoio. He shook his head. "What I don't understand," He started, making the stop gesture with his hands, "Is when you say you called Yamaha." He looked at Valentino for confirmation of this, "You just called them, and that's it. I'm gone."

"No, it is much more complicated than that."

He waved his hands. "No. No. It's really not, is it? You have the Riders, and you have FIA's backing, and all these insane contracts everyone's got to sign, and no one wants to mess with you." He pushed himself to his feet. "You've got all the fucking power, because money is power and pretty soon no one will be able to move in MotoGP without your say so. They all know it, and they're all scared of you. Don't fucking translate that at him." He bellowed, when Valentino started gesturing this to Rasoio. "He fucking knows what I'm saying!"

He turned and got in Rasoio's face and growled in a series of noises that Valentino couldn't even follow and Rasoio's eyes got wide, and sad.

[It's X's career. I have to protect my Racing Riders.] Rasoio reached out to touch his arm.

He jerked away, throwing the stop gesture downwards, [I know!]

[I'm sorry you're disappointed in me. We tried everything,]

He didn't stop Valentino from translating Rasoio's gestures. "Did you try NOT taking over every damn thing?! This is MY career, Rasoio. It hasn't been easy since I moved from Superbikes. Dealing with losing to you and the other..." He bit the word off. It didn't matter what it would have been, it wouldn't have been anything nice. He kicked the cupboard. "What do you expect me to do, so close to the new season? I just got dropped from a top team, that's not something everyone is going to just be hungry to snap up, is it?"

"We got you a spot on Tech 3 Yamaha."

He stilled. "You got me a spot on Tech 3." He nodded. "Why doesn't that surprise me? You think it's okay to make phone calls and get me booted off my team so why would you think it's not okay to make more phone calls and get me signed to a new team. Who the hell is negotiating these deals on my behalf?! You're not my fucking AGENT, Valentino,"

They both started to protest.

"You neither, Ras."

He threw his hands up. "I'm out of here."

He walked out.

Rasoio threw himself onto the couch and covered his face with his hands.

Valentino watched his shoulders shake for a moment and then sat down beside him.

[He's too fast for another season in Moto2, Valentino. X and Jorge, both. We could barely keep them contained as it was, and they're growing up. We can't throttle their growth like that. X should have had his own team. He won't have the room he needs with me right on top of him all the time. I had to do it. I had to. This is the only solution. Colin... He's disappointed in me, Valentino. How can he understand that my Colts have to come before my best friend? No one else will take care of them.]

He just stroked Rasoio's back and felt the grief with him while he cried.

[I know. I know you wanted Colin to stay on your team. He is your friend and he knows you. Knows you well enough to speak your own language to you, when no one else can. He will see your choice and understand it. Someday.]

Someday.

It took until Le Mans. Colin rode up beside Rasoio, both of them still on bikes and grunted an apology through his helmet. Rasoio caught his hand and apologized back, before being swept off into the crowd of fans. On the Podium, Colin bumped champagne bottles with Valentino, and when the other man was close enough, whispered, "I only got so mad because I wish I could get mad, but I really do understand," He gave Valentino a woeful smile. "And damn, he needed to get out of Moto2."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you have a responsibility to?


	17. Visitor

**Visitor**   
**World Motorcycle Center- 2009**

 

There was an interesting appointment on the schedule today. Vale and Ricky sent out letters to the families of the boys who were potential matches for talented colts. The letter was a form letter FIA had approved. It set the stage for the increasing pressure FIA would be willing to wield for sufficiently talented colts.

  
Neither of them had ever encountered a situation where a match had a family member make an appointment with the stable. Usually the families just accepted the karting scholarship or whatever the particular carrot had been disguised as.

  
They'd gotten their own building, and now they were no longer under the Honda auspices. They were officially the World Motorcycle Center: they were their own stable.

  
They still had a single crappy little office, and Vale wasn't the only one who did the paperwork, but he still did a lot of it. There was barely room for chairs for Ricky and Casey on Vale's side of the desk.

  
Their visitor sat across the desk and looked at them impassively.

  
Ricky liked to be formal in these situations. Which just made them look ridiculous. They were crammed 3 abreast into an office the size of a broom closet. The second highest earning athlete in the world was sitting on the most expensive plastic chair they owned.

  
"What brings you to see us Mr. Raikkonen?"

  
Kimi shifted and adjusted his hat as though Ricky was interviewing him.

  
Casey looked at the other two and raised his hands. "Don't either of you pay attention to anything? We are SO not going to interrogate him." Casey's hatred of media events was almost as renown as Kimi's. "What's up, Kimi?"

  
Kimi leaned forward. He and Casey had met the year of their mutual championship at an event neither of them wanted to be at. "Rami is a rally driver, you know?"

  
"Yeah, I saw him around Honda sometimes." He stopped, waiting for Kimi to fill in the relevant details.

  
"He is retiring this year. Rami came and talked to me. He says "Kimi, did you ever wonder how long papa knew FIA wanted us?" He says, "Since we were 3." He hands me a letter. Rami has a boy. His boy is 3."

  
Casey looked confused. Vale and Ricky shifted uncomfortably.

  
We," Here Kimi indicated Vale and Ricky, "We are Trainers. We know FIA wants legacies. We know how BADLY FIA wants legacies." He took a breath. "My brother was angry about the letter. It says he has to start his boy racing. It says when he is 15 if the team calls him, he goes. It doesn't SAY he will match, My brother KNOWS that is what it will mean."

  
Casey looked at Vale and Ricky. "Three?" He mouthed. Even in the Riders, most of the guys didn't know to what level the FIA had controlled their lives. Controlled even the Trainers.

  
Vale looked at Ricky.

  
Ricky knew better than to be formal in this situation. He stood up. "I swear to god, if you are here to ask what I think you are here to ask, you had better be one HELL of a fighter, Iceman, because Vale and I are going to kick your ass so fucking hard we'll need wading boots."

  
Casey leaned back, but he knew by now not to mess with Ricky when Ricky was pissed.

  
Kimi had his head down. "I'm not here to ask you to put him down."

  
"WHAT?!" Casey yelped.

  
"I can't ask that." Kimi told them. "I just want to talk to him."

  
"He's 3. He isn't weaned. His dam won't let you see him, he's too little to make any sense, anyway."

  
"This is what I came to ask." Kimi muttered.

  
Ricky and Vale looked at each other, read each other's expressions, and nodded. "Alright." Ricky stood and climbed over Casey to get out from behind the desk. "Follow me." He escorted Kimi out of the room.

  
"Why would Ricky think he would ask us to put him down? Why would we even DO that?!" Casey demanded. "What kind of person asks that?"

  
Vale leaned over to Casey and murmured, "Would you want our life for your child?"

  
"Not at the cost of a toddler's life." He hissed.

  
"For a parent the choice between their child's life and another's..."

  
Casey shook his head.

  
"Trainers, stable managers, handlers, DO get asked, though,". He stood up and Casey moved out of the way, pulling the chairs of the way so he could get out without climbing over them. "As Ricky said, if he'd asked US, we'd have beaten him into chicken feed. We don't kill our foals for convenience, or any other reason."

  
"Do other Trainers do it?" Casey asked, voice low.

  
"Yes," Vale told him. "Some of them. Not him, I think." He leaned on the desk and fixed him with a stare. "Casey, the companies are ruthless. You remember before you started riding?"

  
"No. I started when I was 4."

  
Vale stood close to Casey, "Every match's parents get a letter."

  
"No one ever tried to get me to kart. Did my parents say no?"

  
Vale took Casey's hands and held them between his. "No."

  
Casey shook his head, "I didn't get called to move to England until I was 14."

  
"Casey. Every match's parents get a letter. It does not come when your Racer is ready to match. It comes when it is time to start preparing your Racer's career for him."

  
"You don't know that my parents got a letter. Maybe Mercedes DIDN'T contact them until I was 14."

  
Vale shook his head. "Break is a Mercedes stallion, but he came to live with us in 1996. Ricky and I have known your name for a dozen years. I know when your parents got the letter for you to match. I sent it."

  
"My parents didn't set me up to be a slave!" Casey snarled. "They didn't do this. They would never have sent me if they'd known what it was like, how there's no way out." He tried to pull his hands out of Vale's grasp, but Vale held on.

  
"I have something to show you. You are a champion and you are a part owner in this stable. You can't go without knowing what that means." He let go of Casey's hands and pulled open a file drawer, flicked through and pulled out several pages. He spread the copies of the letters out in front of Casey. The first was dated 1988 addressed to Mr and Mrs Stoner, and offered a grant to get their son started in motorcycle racing, a significant part of this grant was allotted to 'family living expenses.'

  
The next letter expressed apologies on the Stoner family's unexpected financial misfortune and offered them an advance on Casey's team signing bonus.

  
The next and the next the financial exploitation got worse and worse. The letters got more and more threatening. By the time Casey went to England...he circled the total amount the company had extorted from his family. How had they let themselves get in this deep? And yet..."This is all FIA got for doing this to Break and I? To all the Racers? I've seen cars that cost more than this!"

  
"I figured out how much FIA earns on a Rider's first two years in Moto2" Vale set down another piece of paper. The total covered Casey's family's debt several times over. "The money is just an excuse. They know a working family will be destroyed by this amount of debt. They know they will earn it back, besides, they are usually the ones the debt is being paid to. It's not this that is the expense."

  
He pushed another page forward.

  
Casey looked at the column of sums. "Vale, this is your handwriting."

  
Vale nodded. "This is what it cost us to keep Break fed, stabled, trained and equipped for those same two years." The total was most of what FIA had earned from Break. "FIA takes these charges from Break's earnings. If there is no Casey, FIA never gets paid back for these."

  
Casey looked at Vale, agonized. "They did it. My parents did this to me."

  
"FIA didn't give them options." Vale crossed his arms, "You are not alone in this, you know. Every match's parents get a letter. All our parents made this choice. They had to."

  
"Some parents make harder choices," said a voice from the doorway. "Some parents, who know what it is they are getting into. What if you were given the choice to do what your parents did, or to prevent both children from living in slavery by one's death?" Kimi was standing there with his arms crossed. Ricky was standing behind him.

  
"That's not the choice you made," Casey told him.

  
"I don't think killing babies solves anything.

  
"What are you going to do?" Casey asked him.

  
"My brother says you have to do the best you can with what you are given. FIA gave me a Racing Driver. FIA gave me an education as a Trainer. Mostly FIA gives me this."

  
He handed Ricky a piece of paper. "FIA cannot touch this. Don't let them have it." He looked at Casey. "Parents make a hard choice, but matches make hard choices every day, and Trainers have to think ahead to what choices they will cause to be made."

  
Vale understood suddenly. "FIA sends us match results, because most of our foals were born at other stables. Was it you, Kimi?"

  
"Yes. FIA wants legacies. Legacies earn more than similarly talented drivers. I knew when my brother's son was born that FIA would want him. I ran the test myself so I would have time to get ready."

  
"Is that better?" Casey asked.

  
Kimi shrugged.

  
"I'll be back in 6 months to see him again." He shook their hands.

  
When he'd left, Vale elbowed Ricky. "The mare let him see the baby? What did he say to a toddler?"

  
-

  
The Rider's stable didn't have visitors very often, and Ricky forgot the effect the way their stable was run had on people used to a traditional Driver stable. Kimi was one of the first Trainers who had NOT stared. They went into the common room and the mares and foals all looked up. Ratchet came out of the stallion's corridor and hugged Ricky and then Kimi.

  
Kimi DID look surprised by the stocky redhead laying his head on Kimi's shoulder and patting him softly on the back. He patted Ratchet in return. [It's great to meet you, too, I'm Kimi.] Kimi's signing was extremely fluent.

  
Ratchet kept a hand on Kimi's arm as he gestured, [I'm Ratchet.]

  
[Kimi is here to see Velvet. Can you ask her to come out here?] Ricky asked him.

  
The mares and foals kept coming over and greeting the visiting Trainer. Kimi was kneeling and surrounded by a group of foals, using rhythmic signs. A couple of the foals were partly gesturing along with him.

  
Ratchet returned with a blonde mare. They stood and watched Kimi. Ratchet tapped Ricky, 'He is a good singer. You never sing, why don't you ever sing?'

  
'I don't know how?'

  
[Kimi, will you teach our guys to sing?] Ratchet asked.

  
Kimi looked up at him, looking painfully shy. He stood and brushed his pants off, stalling for time.

  
[Don't feel obligated to agree to that,] Ricky told him. [This is Velvet. Velvet, this is Kimi. He'd like to talk to you.] She looked suspicious at this, but they went off to the side. Ratchet unabashedly watched their conversation.

  
He said, [I know your colt's match, I would like to meet the colt that is the other half of the boy I love.]

  
Velvet crossed her arms. [I don't want a Trainer intimidating my colt.]

  
Kimi took her hand in his and stroked it, smiling.

  
She shook her head.

  
He nodded at her. [Can I tell you about the boy?]

  
She looked at him and cocked her head.

  
Ricky felt a tug at his hand and looked down at the little red haired blue eyed filly that wanted to tell him something. He kept a mental ear tuned to Ratchet.

  
'He is telling her how wonderful the little man is,' Ratchet reported. 'She says she will let him speak to her colt.'

  
Ricky heard Velvet leave the room and return with her son. He was more coordinated than a human would be at 3, not toddling, but walking capably. He turned to watch surreptitiously.

  
Kimi sat down and gestured to him, with gestures as complex as those he'd used with the adult Racing Riders. [I am proud to meet you, Fluttering In The Wind. My name is Kimi.]

  
[Stable?] the toddler gestured. His coordination was better than a humans, but his body language wasn't as well developed, to provide the level of context an adults' would.

  
[Yes, Kimi means like being with mama. You like to ride?]

  
'What does he mean his name is like being with mama?' Ricky asked.

  
Ratchet just sent a feeling of a place that was filled with motion and a whirl of color and felt totally safe, 'That is Kimi.'

  
[Good rider. Like dirt. Flying.]

  
Kimi smiled. [I like riding motocross, too. I'm glad you're fast enough to race. Maybe someday you can come race with my Racing Driver and I. He isn't as good on a motorcycle as he is in a car, and I'm a human, but we have fun. When you are big enough to match, I will come watch your races.]

  
[Fast, wins and wins!] the little blonde gestured back. He climbed in Kimi's lap.

  
Velvet looked up at Ricky for a moment. [He is a Trainer?]

  
Ricky nodded.

  
[Flutter In The Wind will always be safe if a Trainer loves him,] she made small gestures where Kimi couldn't see them.

  
[It will be easier for him,] Ricky agreed.

  
[Lots of wins is good. Your match will be proud of you, very proud, no matter how many wins you have. I know your match, he is a good boy, funny. You will like him. Can I tell him about you when he is ready to know?]

  
[Yes! Love him here,] the little Racing Rider touched his heart, [Meet him?]

  
[He will love you, too. You can't meet him yet. He isn't ready, yet. Human's take longer to be ready than Racing Riders. When you are big enough to match, he will be ready, and I will talk to him, and teach him how to understand you when he needs to, so he is ready to race right away when you match.]

  
The little Rider snuggled against Kimi and yawned. [You nice like mama.]

  
Kimi smiled. [Do you want to learn something to show mama?]

  
[Yes!]

Kimi settled the colt in his lap, craddled against his arm. [The little Racing Rider, mama Racing Rider's son,] he gestured in the rhythmic gestures Ratchet had described as singing. [His mama has strong hands, to take care of her colt.] He booped the baby on the nose.

  
He laughed. His little voice sounded more like the motor of a kitchen appliance than a car engine at this age.

  
[The little Racing Rider, mama Racing Rider's son,] he continued, [His mama has a strong heart, to love her colt,] he gestured heart but he touched his finger to the baby's forehead. [The little Racing Rider, mama Racing Rider's son, there is no mama or lead stallion to take care of him. The little Racing Rider, where does he live? There is no one in his stall, the stable is empty.]

  
The baby watched him with big, wide eyes for awhile, then gestured slowly, [Rider Race?]

  
[It is empty because he went to race,] Kimi agreed.

  
The baby's eyes got wider. He pushed out of Kimi's arms and went to his dam. [Mama! Race! Get big. Race! Ride fast!] He gestured. He started repeating the song from the very beginning.

  
Velvet, who had just watched Kimi sing it to her son, laughed. [You will race, just like the little Rider in the song. You will get big and your man will help you. Did you tell Kimi thank you for the song?]

  
The little Racing Rider turned around. Kimi was getting up from his seated position. [Thank you, Champion.]

  
Ricky's eyes widened. Racers never called humans Champion. The Drivers and Riders were the ones who did the racing, did the winning. Some of the Riders called Ricky and Valentino "stallion" as a title, because they led the matches like Ratchet and Rasoio led the herd. Champion was a term that was only used for Racers, and only Racers who had earned a championship. Ricky had spent a lot of time around the herd, and even the littlest foals never used a gesture like that for a human.

  
Kimi knew it, too, [You are welcome for the song. I am not a Champion, though.]

  
[Strong?] the baby gestured, cocking his head just like his dam had. He narrowed his eyes and then nodded. [Yes, stallion.]

  
[Good. I will come see you again.]

  
The little Rider hugged him goodbye. Velvet hugged him goodbye as well.

  
  
\--

  
Ricky told Vale and Casey what had happened, except for the part about the baby calling Kimi Champion. When Casey had left the room, Valentino started to follow him. Ricky put his hand on his arm and closed the door behind Casey. "I saw something really strange in there."

  
Vale waited.

  
"The little Rider called Kimi Champion."

  
This made Valentino look at him like he was crazy. "He's little, he probably meant it like they call you and I stallion," he said, after a moment. "Unless Kimi drove without a Racing Driver. It's possible he won his own Championship in GP2 or something else. It's not ALWAYS exactly obvious when the Racer shows up. Casey was pretty impressive all on his own."

  
"But, then Kimi told him he wasn't a Champion, and the baby said strong. And it was so hard to tell what he was saying, because his gestures were so foggy, and his body language was all over the place. Kimi understood him perfectly, by the way. When he said strong, it was a question. Which Kimi DID NOT answer. Unless his gesture was so subtle Ratchet and I couldn't see it. Then the baby called him stallion instead. With no prompting."

  
"That is strange, but foals are strange. Kids are strange." Vale shrugged.

  
"Would you do me a favor?" Ricky asked.

  
"Yes."

  
"Ratchet was standing there, I want an unbiased answer. Will you ask Rasoio," he paused, trying to word the question just right, "Open your connection really wide, and ask Rasoio if Kimi is a stronger champion than Break. Let's just see what he says." He crossed his arms and watched Vale's face.

  
"Okay." Vale looked to the side, his eyes unfocused. Suddenly his head moved a little and his eyes rapidly looked from side to side. He looked back at Ricky. "He was really startled, and it took him a long time to answer. He said no, Kimi isn't a Champion, he doesn't drive."

  
Ricky put a fist to his mouth thoughtfully. "Doesn't really address the strength issue, though, does it?"

  
"No?" Vale said. It was clear this wasn't as much of a concern to him as it was to Ricky. That was alright. Ricky wanted time to think about it. He didn't have anything to think about, really, just the odd behavior of a very young child, and a feeling in his stomach that somehow it was significant. Somehow, Kimi was strong, a Champion, and the Riders knew it, but weren't going to explain it to their men. That was the most interesting thing Ricky had heard all year.

  
As he walked out of the office he realized he was still holding the piece of paper Kimi had handed him. He unfolded it. On it was written the words "Don't let FIA have this," and a big number. Below this it said -balance, and then the name of a bank, and an account number. Ricky's jaw dropped. This was going to save them stealing a LOT of napkins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're going to have an ally. He's a good one to have.
> 
> (Kimi's song is based on "aa aa, allin lasta" A Finnish lullaby where instead of little Racing Rider, it's long tailed duckling.)


	18. Step Up

**Step Up**

**Sepang International Circuit- 2011**

Sicuro was hungry for the win.  He couldn't wait for it.  He ached for it.  He pushed the corner harder.

His bike slipped.

NO!!  This was it, this was his win!  

He was taking it!

He wrenched the bike upwards and they drifted back towards the racing line.  He almost had it back under control.

A hard impact drove him inside himself.  Was that the ground?  The next Rider?  What had he hit?

Inside his own mind, mentally rising to shuddering knees, he came face to face with Marco, who he'd unconsciously pulled inside with him.  He had time to say, 'This is unusual..'

Then there was a second impact.

\--

'Jorge.'  X's sending was placid, almost cold.  He'd gotten very alert because of something Jorge couldn't sense and set Jorge back in his own body.  He never did that while they were racing.  'You need to stop watching me and you need to call Ricky.  Don't look at any of the monitors.  Get Ricky here right now.  We'll need him.'

He kept trying to look at the monitors, but his own muscles wouldn't let him, like they would no longer move in that direction.  He ignored the team's gasps and rushing to the monitor and their words he could no longer quite make out, and picked up his phone.  He called Ricky's number.  Ricky was in Talladega.  Jorge couldn't figure out the time difference with X crowding his mind.

'What am I telling him?' He asked.

'Tell him Colin and Rasoio just killed Sicuro.'

Jorge tried to skew around to look at the monitor, but X still wasn't letting him.

'Tell him Valentino and Rasoio will need him right away, because his teammate's man says Marco went with him.'

Shit.

Their doctor would be dealing with his panicking Riders.  Who was next best medic?  'Get Johann up here.'  Whose garage was closest to the Motorhome?  Jorge glanced towards the next garage.  Where the hell was Ben when he needed him?!  Fuck it.  'Someone needs to go to Vale.  Send those damn twins he dotes on.'

The phone was still ringing unanswered.

'They're in the medical center.'

'Send fucking Dani if you have to!  He'll be freaking out.'  He waved away the crewman who was trying to get his attention, he didn't have time for team things right now.  X could handle the bike alone.

'Jorge, his teammate says the men on the team need to move Marco, they just made like he was a mechanic who fell asleep from surprise.  Someone will notice, soon.'

'Have him tell them to take him in the back room.'

"It's the middle of the night, Jorge.  If this is about Dani again, I swear..." Ricky's voice growled into the phone.

"We need you here, now.  He..."  He couldn't even say it.  How was it possible?  What happened to Marco?  What happened to Sicuro, for that matter?  "There was a crash.  Vale needs you, it's bad.  He died, Ricky.  X says he died right there."  Now that he had said it out loud, he was shaking.

There was a hitching gasp on the other end of the line.  "I'm there the minute I can get a flight, I'll text you my arrival time, and you have one of the team's send someone for me.  Fuck..Ratchet.  I'll get Kevin to....shit, don't worry, I'll figure it out.  We'll be there.  Okay, Jorge.  We'll be there.  Go take care of my brother."  He hung up.

'Is Nicky with Valentino?'  Jorge set the phone gently on a toolbox and clenched his fists.

'Yes.'

'Tell Dani and Casey to meet me at Gresini's garage as soon as the cameras are off them.'  Jorge fought back the shakes.  He and Casey were the next ones in charge after Valentino.  How was Valentino going to cope with this?  What would they do without Valentino?

They were going to go to Marco and Sicuro’s team and find a way to disguise the fact the match had dropped dead in the garage, the same moment his Rider had died on the track.

 

\--

 

The Riders were hustled into back rooms, switching places as seamlessly with their men as possible.  Jorge had sent the younger matches to run the errands so no one would be missed.  

Valentino didn't know this.  All he knew was that, Marco, the only person he wanted to see right now was lying in the back room of the Honda Gresini garage.  And that Rasoio wouldn't stop screaming.  Inside and out.  Fortunately the back rooms of the garages were sound proof, or his shrieking would be audible to the cameras.  

Vale wished he could soundproof the inside of his skull.

Rasoio was totally unresponsive to any kind of reasoning.  He just kept screaming.  Screaming for his Colin to come to him.  Not to block him out.  That he needed to share this with him.

Valentino couldn't break through his desperation to make him remember that Colin couldn't help him.  Colin wasn't blocking him out, he was human and couldn't hear him.  He didn't have someone else to make the public face, either, to allow him to leave his garage and be with Rasoio in their distress.

Vale wanted to throw up.  This was too much.  With resources, they could have done something.  Their only doctor was trying to save the dead Racer.  The match had died with him, and Valentino had to sit here, not acknowledging what he knew.

This was hell on earth.  FIA was going to give this back to him someday.  Someday they would make this up to him.  If he had to burn his way through the last 100 meters of red tape with a lighter, he'd do it.

He would make sure FIA paid for every Rider he ever lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forza Marco
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marco_Simoncelli
> 
> Support systems are a necessary part of life, even for Racing Riders.


	19. Measure of a Man

**Measure of a Man**   
**Honda Motorsports Development Facility- 2008**

  
"HEY!"

  
Ricky pulled Jorge's hand away from Duende's shirt.

  
"He is messing with X again!" Jorge barked at Ricky.

  
"That doesn't mean you can mishandle him." The older man was shorter than Jorge, already, but he looked up at him with the power of the entire population of Riders behind him. All of it.

  
"How else will he learn?!" No way was he backing down from this.

  
"That is not how he will learn. Someone treat you like that, why do you think that's okay?"

  
"Everyone does it."

  
Ricky shook his head. "We will NEVER treat you like that."

  
"You say that now." Jorge turned away with a huff.

  
Ricky stepped in front of him. "Now and every time after this. We're here to help you, Jorge. Protect you."

  
"You look the other way while Valentino pushes us down. Just because he's your buddy."

  
"Has he ever hit you?!"

  
"No, he would if I pissed him off enough, though."

  
Ricky looked genuinely shocked. "Jorge, no. He wouldn't."

  
Whatever.

  
Everyone did it.

  
That didn't mean Jorge had to, though.

  
So he wouldn't. That would show them.

 

**Majorca, Spain- 1993**

 

"Tio, no!" Jorge ducked away from the backhand, not fast enough. He felt the smack against the side of his head, anyway. "I'm sorry!"

  
"Ai, that is enough." A woman's voice rang in the street. She was out in front of her shop arranging fruit, she came over to Jorge and his uncle. She had an orange in her hand. She was extremely fat. She had pimples on her face. "That is not how you treat a child." She gave Jorge an sympathetic smile. Then she was facing his uncle. He was bigger than her, but she stood and faced him.

  
"You mind your business!" His uncle growled, stepping close to her, to frighten her away.

  
"When a man hurts someone weaker than him, it is everyone's business." She told him, cold as a winter rain.

  
Why did she care? Why had she said anything? No one else ever did. People looked, people watched, some looked angry, some looked scared. No one ever said anything.

  
"Children need to learn how to behave. When he defies me, he has to learn."

  
"That is not how he will learn." She said. She was not backing away. She wasn't scared of uncle.

  
Uncle grabbed his hand and pulled him away. "Ugly Puta. What the hell does she know? How would she know how to raise children?" He growled. He shook Jorge's shoulder. "You hear me, brat? I'll teach you to behave." The treat hung in the air all the way home.

  
Jorge hated that ugly puta for ever saying anything.

  
It wasn't like she was going to be there the next time.

  
It wasn't as though she'd made things better.

  
Just made things worse.

 

**Circuito de Jerez- 2012**

 

Jorge was on his way back from practice, and he came around the corner of one of the motorhomes. There was a scared rev somewhere nearby. He looked between two of the motorhomes. Two of the Ducati handlers had Rasoio between them. One of them had the tall Rider's arm up behind his back.

  
[Shut up or we'll fucking break your arm,] One of them gestured. His gestures were rough, but even Jorge could understand them. [You keep bitching about the team...]

  
Jorge kept walking. Handlers were always dicks. If he said anything to them, they'd just hurt Rasoio more the next time. Rasoio would resent him for interfering.

  
When a man hurts someone weaker than him, it is everyone's business.

  
Those guys could flatten him. It happened all the time. The handlers were always like that. Rasoio would be fine. He was strong. He was capable of dealing with it. He could handle himself. They wouldn't really hurt Rasoio, anyway, he was too valuable.

  
How would he feel if that were X over there and Valentino or Casey kept walking?

  
He was RUNNING back.

  
"HEY! That's not how you treat him!" He called.

  
They both let go of the Rider, who stepped away, head down, shoulders heaving.

  
"This is none of Yamaha's business!" One of the handlers yelled. The other looked at him.

  
"Every Rider is my business." Jorge stepped between him and Rasoio.

  
"We're his handlers, you have no right to interfere."

  
"Tell that to my Trainers license." Jorge growled. "I am taking over this Racer's management, and if you have a problem with it, you tell his stable owner. Get away from my Rider." The men were both much taller and bigger than Jorge. He felt afraid. They both looked like they wanted to hit him.

  
With a thrill, he realized he could see their fear. Rasoio's stable owner was Valentino. If they thought reporting Jorge to Valentino for protecting Valentino's other half was a valid choice, Jorge would LOVE to see how that went. They backed away, then turned and walked off.

  
Jorge turned to Rasoio. There were tears in the Rider's eyes. [They hurt your shoulder?] He asked. He immediately checked Rasoio's rotator cuff, guiding the Rider's arm through a series of motions.

  
[No,] Rasoio gestured, small, with only his left hand. [Jorge, you helped me.]

  
[They were hurting you.]

  
[They can do what they like.]

  
[They're not allowed to do THAT.]

  
[They're my handlers.]

  
[Not anymore.]

  
Jorge slipped his arm around Rasoio's waist and walked back to the Ducati garage with him, and then sat in the back room with him, stroking his back awkwardly, until the door opened and Valentino came in. He looked confused when he saw Jorge and Rasoio.

  
"What are you doing here? If the journalists see you coming out of this garage, they will make a fuss."

  
"Then I will apologize to both our media officers." He patted Rasoio. [Tell him. Or I will. You know who he would rather hear it from.]

  
Valentino would have followed him out, if it hadn't been for Rasoio's quickly gestured, [Valentino, I need to talk to you.]

  
Jorge walked back to where his own Rider was waiting, thinking about a quote he'd heard long before.

  
A man's worth is determined by how he treats those in his power.

  
He hoped he lived up to the examples set for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things change.
> 
> People grow.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> Real People don't belong to me.
> 
> This story is fiction and is no reflection on anyone in it. The story does belong to me, as does the AU in which it is set.
> 
> Please comment, I like comments.


End file.
